A Last Post – Oh dear…. thinking ahead
The last few days have found even my “auto pilot” the part of me that takes over in my “present life” having issues. I usually rely upon my auto pilot to see me through the days when my brain has me elsewhere in the past.
However something is amiss, I have waited to have it “clear” or like some kind of emotional pacemaker kick in . Not happening.
Pride Day, Settlers’ Watch, reading about “circumvention and diversion ” which is ripe for a post, Success for All fiasco, transparency in the hierarchy of Lorain City Schools, Cheryl Atkinson and her 76 trombones, scholarships and how Thomas the Tank Engine and the Cuyahoga Valley trip “tanked”, arson and cretins of Lorain
any number of subjects I am in a sort holding pattern
As I walked back from Settlers’ Watch last night knowing that I had a post half-finished to put up for this morning I started to feel quite unwell. I wondered
is this it? Am I done with this planet?
I wasn’t too concerned, I admit it, after all I had had shower and clean underwear but the thought crossed my mind if I tanked the last post on my blog would be the last thing written, my last words so to speak. Oh! I have my obituary half written – after the dreadful obit with regard to my son no other bugger is writing mine so that has to be finished so it can be the “last post” 🙂 . I wonder if you know how weird it is to write your own obit?
People eating and laughing and sharing news of the day in the ICU waiting rooms whilst waiting for my son’s last breath left me disgusted and full of anger. The Gypsy Caravan that attended my son’s last days was to me abhorrent and tasteless and not of my culture or his and robbed death of dignity .
I read his Obituary on Saturday in the local paper. Was this my wonderful young man whose life was put into so many cents a line? Was this MY Chris – I could not let that be the last words written about my son so I have composed a letter which I hope will be a more fitting epitaph to one whose passing has broken a mother’s, father’s and sister’s heart.The Unbearable Pain of Being