My main wonder in life is why. Why do you love her more? Why can't I be like her? Why don't you know? The thing is -- I can't get an answer to these questions. You know why? Because I'm too afraid to ask you.
You pulled up on that chilly winter night, the fresh, sparkling snow crunching under your Toyota's tires. I ran out to the car, only to then notice she was in the passenger's seat. Hiding my sadness, and pretending my eyes were sensitive to the cold and that's why they were watering, I climbed in the back seat. "I have some good news," you said, smiling and looking back at me, "we're now engaged!". She shot up her hand in victory, flashing the huge shiny rock right under my nose, as if saying "Ha ha, I got the guy!". As we started driving to the concert, I stopped the question I would've asked by breathing deeply. My air came out in visible puffs, and I thought I could hear myself saying, "Why not me? Why her?" But I couldn't get an answer, because I'm too afraid to ask you.
That day when I had went over to your apartment, I thought you meant a surprise for ME. As I rang the buzzer, ran up the stairs and opened your door, you were practically jumping. "She's pregnant!", you yelled, and it brought tears to your eyes. I went to the bathroom after congratulating you. I dug around the depths of my purse to find an old felt pen. I took a piece of toilet paper and scribbled down, "Why her? Why not me? Why can't we have kids together?". In my heart, I hoped you'd find it after I threw it in the garbage can, somehow. But I never got an answer, because I'm too afraid to ask you.
Now I'm in heaven, watching over you and your family. Do you still remember that night? The night when I tried to ask you?
We were driving along route 69 in your old Toyota. I finally got to ride in the passenger's seat again. You looked at me as I started to cry. Just then, you had the guts to ask, "Why?". "Because I never got to ask you why her and not m..", I replied. You reached in your pocket, and tried to pick out a piece of old, tearing toilet paper, and then a semi plowed into the side of your car. I was hit, flung from the car and died on impact. I want to ask you why her and not me? Why do you think your happily ever after is with her, and not me? But will I ever get the answer from you? I never got it down on Earth. Maybe why is an impossible question. Perhaps you just don't know.
