The futilty of anger

There comes a time when it is easier to forgive (or just stop caring) than to keep being angry.  What I've learned is that nobody owes me anything.  And, if they don't care about what happened to us, no matter how close they are to us (whether they are immediate family or the people who interacted with Max daily, or distant acquaintances), I can't make them care.  I can be disappointed that my relationships weren't all what I thought they were - but that is about it.  Being angry that people aren't empathetic is futile.  They still don't care.

The truth is that for every light that burned out, one lit up in its place - Friends and acquaintances and strangers who do care - like a black desert sky with a million twinkling stars.  The stars of my current life are made up of other parents who are going through this nightmare, people I never would have expected to hear from, literal strangers who have become my closest confidants, friends who I'd lost touch with ages ago, and best best friends who reminded me why I loved them so much to begin with.

It sometimes becomes habit to call certain people your friends, because you've been doing it for so long.  There are other people who you call friends because you've shared some laughs.  It sometimes takes a gigantic event to reevaluate what friendship really means anyway.  And, not everyone needs to be someone you would want to call a friend.  Some people are just there - in your life by circumstance rather than by choice.  You can keep laughing with them without being friends or expecting anything more than that.  It is easier to accept that than to be angry that they aren't more.  It took a long time for me to get here.