Why?

Why. It's the question everybody asks when something bad happens. Why me? Why did this have to happen? Why did they have to go? Why did they leave me? Why them and not me? Why, just, why?

The man stands outside, throwing a raging tantrum at the sky. Screaming at it, why, over and over. The woman is furiously, painfully pummeling the ground with her fist, a river of tears falling freely down her face as she asks the same question in a whisper. Why? 

The girl, phone held loosely in her hand as the tears start. Yet, she looks so mad, you can practically see the steam blasting from her ears. Then the tears take over once more. "Why?" she manages to get out, her voice heavy with sobs as she chokes the small word out between them. As the phone falls from her loosened grip, she drops heavily to her knees on the floor. She's staring at the ground, without really seeing it. Why? I don't understand? Why did he break up with me? Why, just why.

Why. The question that never seems to get answered. A million people yell it up at the sky. At some higher power who could be up there, supposedly controlling everything. But this higher power never bothers to respond. It never dignifies all of these people with an answer to their desperate. So it hangs lingeringly in the air. Why. The momentous question so often asked by people in one last, desperate attempt at clarity. One last clinging hope at understanding A question so often asked, but so often left unanswered. So often that this small, pivotal question becomes something of an anticlimax. Why!? Why? 

Why. The ever unanswered question. Does it even have an answer? Or, is it a question without an answer? Who can answer? But, if there is an answer, what would it bring? More despair? More anger, hurt, or upset? Or comfort? Closure, clarity?