Are you there God? It’s me William (screw Margaret and her period cramps)

I've got a massive headache. Which doesn't bod well for my overall well-being, seeing as I had one of those “what the fuck” moments today. It started when I accompanied my mom to a benefit that a committee she's a member of put on at a supposed mansion in town. Now Carbondale has no real mansions; this is a house with a big ass lawn, that a bunch of old people, looking at the neighborhood of run-down houses, decided this one must be worth something to someone. No one apparently alerted these people of the housing market crash; there's a community band (compromised of old and young mind you) playing for family and friends. All of probably 30 (max). ..the band had about as many members as fans, so its was truly rather sad. So while accompanying my mother, in my standard wife beater, back wards cubs hat and clear blue sunglasses (Tooltown population 1), I needless to say brought all the class to this little mixer. While zoning in and out listening to my mother and several older ladies discuss/babble about the finer points of being a grandmother, my mom introduced me to a little 4^th grader, Max who was out wandering around, off in his own, innocent world. She then let me know that he too “was” a twin. At first, given the fact I was paying absolutely no attention to anything other than to how old the one decent looking Asian broad in attendance was (nice to meet you, Woody Allen!) I let it go over my head. “Oh he was a twin, I suppose I was to before he moved” I thought, which at the time and even now in writing makes no sense and further proves that I am, in fact, a space cadet. Finally, after pondering what my equivalent to still playing in a “community band” when I'm 60 is (the image of me wearing long black socks, eye glare and batting gloves while reeking of bengay/the slow decaying of aging immediately came to mind) I finally returned to the planet earth, and hickory lodge. “He was a twin?” I asked. My mom, who was enjoying the shade of me following her around like I too was 5, “His twin just complained about a headache...and he died a year later.” Hence the what the fuck. Apparently the poor kid was diagnosed with a brain tumor at 4, and died when he was 5. And so now you see why I'm fretting over a headache. He just complained about a headache? So is my headache reason to complain?? I mean I've tried to cut out my once habits of excessively complaining/bitching/moaning/grousing over every little potential for injury, but does this give me a legitimate reason? HE WAS A TWINNER! I'M A TWINNER! IS IT A SIGN?! Where are crop circles when I need'em or a piss stain that resembles the virgin mary. I need a sign (that doesn't involve me crippling over or blacking out).