ten: it's never that simple

I never even knew you, but your death was the end of innocence for me. I suppose indirectly I knew you, because I’ve known your would-have-been mother since we were kids. We used to be quite similar, but I suppose in our case nurture beat out nature and we turned out complete opposites. Our common ancestors were our main bond, and somehow we made that work. It’s sad that she could not make it work with you though, despite my feeble attempts to intervene on the situation.

It’s never quite like how the movies portray it —rowdy protestors surrounding the clinic shouting pro-life slogans and shoving model fetuses in your face. Or expectant mothers having a change of heart once they see the first ultrasound blob vaguely shaped like a human. The entire experience is more so a business transaction that doesn't consider the emotional and other additional costs beyond the financial.

I couldn’t go to see you off that day, I don’t think I have the stomach for it, but I still grieved for you. You would’ve been niece or nephew (lucky) number 8 on that side of the family, and you would’ve probably needed all the luck the world could hand you because of where you were coming from. Still I thought that there was a fighting chance for you, but maybe life would have just been too hard for you to be brought up in that environment and that’s why you’re not here today?