unhappiness comes knocking on our door

I read in a reportage on the earthquake in Italy that the survivors, desperate and powerless, were wondering why fate had chosen them and their land as a place for the terrible disaster. It 's a question that will never receive an answer, but that we cannot avoid to ask when unhappiness comes knocking on our door, as if somewhere in the universe there were an entity responsible of the bad things that occur. Very often we have only the time to see death in front of us, or maybe not even this, when a bomb explodes ten steps from us, when a vessel is reduced into pieces shortly before reaching the coast, when a flood carries away houses and bridges as if they were insignificant barriers, when an avalanche or a landslide bury entire populations. We wonder why to us, why to me, and there is no answer. Even Jacques Brel had asked: "Porquoi moi? Porquoi maintenant?". And he died. That's fate, and in destiny the word resurrection is not written. It 's good to know. In reality, the world does not exist in order to then have resurrections. It's enough what there is here.

José Saramago