Bereft Equals Deprived

I spoke with a friend last night, and she was so empty of feeling, so sad, and even morose, I struggled for words. I came up with bereft, and its secondary meaning, which is deprived, as in deprived of feeling. She's dealing with a sick family member, and not the kind of sickness that either gets cured or ends swiftly in death. Rather, it goes on and on, like a years long tsunami, pulling all in its path to waste and ruin. What do you tell someone in that place? The sun will come out tomorrow? Truthfully, as bad as things are, they're only getting worse? Of course, for those who believe in the Big Man, there is an answer. Seek comfort in God, God has a plan, let things flow, there is a reason for all of this, but you can't see it now. I envy my truly religious friends, like Rabbi Yossi. He truly seems to know, in his heart and head, that the reason for ALL we see and hear and feel on this earth is because God says so. When I asked him the cliched question, about why our benevolent Creator allows us suffering, he offers the example of the toddler nearing a busy street. His father grabs him, maybe even gives him a spank, and says NO! To the toddler, who can't comprehend what's truly good for him, this admonition seems only mean and cruel -- let me go where I choose. Later, the toddler will realize his father/God was doing what was best for him. I don't know. I question so much about the whole thing. I do feel who I am, a Jew, and love the symbolism in our religion. Right now, it's Chanukah, and last night I wished the light of the menorah would brighten the darkness my friend is surrounded by. She was telling me she wanted to move, to change everything -- I offered practical advice: don't make permanent life choices when faced with a temporary crisis. But the crisis, sadly, isn't temporary. A sick relative can drain the colors out of all of life's paintings. All appears gray, and I, at least, am powerless to bring back the brightness. Still, tonight I'll turn the electric bulb on, for the third night of Chanukah. The luminosity, like chicken soup to a head cold, at least can't hurt.