What does one say to a dear friend whose son was born three months early and, after struggling for six weeks, dies?
What does one say to one’s aunt when her daughter, at age forty-five, has died unexpectedly from a massive heart attack?
I’ve found myself in both those positions in the span of three short days. Those are the moments that language shows its inadequacy and faith is strained.
An atheist has a simple answer: it’s nature. There’s no need to justify why it could happen because, outside the normal laws of nature (and their impact on clogged arteries and premature babies), there is no why. It simply happens.
It’s something I’ve always found comforting about atheism.