The Futility of Why: Moving Forward Matters More

In the past few years, I have come to understand that dwelling on WHY offers no solace. When my wife, Alka, fell ill, when our world turned upside down, I spent countless nights asking why. Why her? Why us? Why now? But no answer ever came, and even if it had, it wouldn’t have changed a thing. What mattered then, and what matters now, is what comes next.'

At first, I thought if I could understand the reason—why life had dealt us this cruel hand—it would somehow make it easier to accept. But the world doesn’t work that way. Life doesn’t pause to offer explanations or justifications. It just keeps moving, indifferent to our grief, our struggles, and our desperate need for clarity. And as I watched Alka, once strong and independent, struggle with her new reality, I realised that searching for WHY was keeping me stuck when she needed me to move forward.

People mean well when they ask, “How are you managing?” But the truth is, they don’t really want to know the long answer. They don’t want to hear about the days when Alka cries, afraid of what the future holds. They don’t want to hear about my exhaustion, the endless caregiving, the loneliness that creeps in at odd hours. What they do care about—what really counts—is: what I do next.

And so, I have shifted my focus. Instead of asking why, I ask myself, What can I do today? Sometimes, the answer is something small—ensuring Alka smiles at least once a day, making her favourite meal, adjusting her pillows just right, or simply holding her hand when words fail. Other times, it means finding the strength to plan for the future, to think about what life can still be rather than what it no longer is.

There’s an odd sense of freedom in letting go of WHY. It means I no longer have to justify my pain or make sense of an unfair situation. Instead, I can pour my energy into action. I can choose to be patient when frustration threatens to take over. I can choose to find joy in small victories—the way Alka’s eyes light up when she hears an old song, the warmth of her hand in mine, the quiet moments of togetherness that illness has not stolen from us.

Reflection has its place, but it should never become a prison. I’ve seen too many people get trapped in their own versions of WHY—why did their business fail, why did their loved one leave, why did life not turn out the way they expected? But WHY rarely leads anywhere productive. The real power lies in the next step, in the choices we make despite the unknowns.

So, I no longer ask WHY this happened to Alka, to us. Instead, I ask: What can I do today to make this life worth living? Because in the end, it isn’t the past that defines us. It’s what we do next that truly matters.