Is the fact you only had a mere 18 months to love your new baby before it was diagnosed as terminally ill getting you down? Would you like to feel that pain even deeper, but you’re not into self-cutting or heroin?
Stop waiting! Now there’s a way to make the imminent death of your sick baby even worse than it has to be! Make a list of all the things it won’t be doing when it dies and put it on the Internet! Like this:
"My name is Avery Lynn Canahuati, I’m almost 5 months old. But before I die, there’s a few things I’d like to accomplish…this is my bucket list and my story."
Oh. OK. I didn’t know people got this far without being stopped by friends and family first. But this is fine, too. I was looking for something heartrendingly morbid today and this more than fits the bill. I’ll just send this copy of Requiem for a Dream back to Netflix and settle down in front of a terminally ill baby’s blog instead.
The blog is called "Avery Can." That’s an especially fun name because Avery is dead. Died like four days ago. Oh yes! Meanwhile, her blog goes on without her, and painstakingly chronicles all the things that live babies can do which dead babies cannot do. Dead babies like Avery. Who, I may have mentioned, is dead.
This bucket list contains heartwarming and not-at-all-depressing dreams such as "Paint a picture for my mommy & daddy," "Be potty trained," "Lose my first tooth," and my personal favorite list item: "Sit up."
Dead baby? What dead baby? Busy updating the blog, honey!
Thanks to her very, very, extremely, insanely goddamn loving parents, Avery had quite the jam-packed little life. To her, the world was nothing but 24-7 Shetland pony rides, tiaras at breakfast, and throwing the first pitch at every ballgame. Not a bad way to live. They couldn’t keep that up for 18 years. Hell, maybe we’d all do well to die at a year and half. I wouldn’t have seen Spain, but I also wouldn’t have been assaulted by my ex-boyfriend. Tradeoff?
(Thought for the day: Dying before the age of two is the only way to live.)
There is no right way to grieve the loss of a child, and we all handle trauma in our own way. For example, some people respond by making handprint molds and getting a Hello Kitty tattoo:
Meanwhile, others are just fucking used to it by now:
Hey, that’s a dying baby INSIDE a bucket! Is that the original baby bucket list? Does that mother have a blog? No? How about malaria? Everyone in Africa has malaria and no one has a blog? Gotchy!
Actually, it turns out that this baby in Chad has a bucket list too (although the blog is on Geocities, poor Africa!). Look:
Admire a broken bicycle
When is UNICEF coming to feed us?
Bednets! Bednets! Bednets!
Play soccer with a ball made from rubber bands and bloody cloth
Meet Mia Farrow
Attend a school with toilets
What’s a computer?
Ride in a bucket
The world is a frightening place. Sometimes (i.e., all the fucking time) things do die. Even babies. Even babies that we LIKED! Mostly, this happens in Africa, but once in a great while it even happens to white people in Texas. And that is when it’s time to take action!
Although it’s not possible to make a blog for every baby who is dying at this very second (there’s a shitload million of ’em!), let’s take a moment of silence to at least consider the acutely malnourished babies sitting in buckets in the Sahel region of Africa today.
Then, do nothing. There’s nothing you can do. Sometimes, shit just dies. Go get lunch.