Sleepless night again.  Four o'clock in the morning.  Thinking about death now that mom and dad are both in the cedar chest.  I have experienced death, near death, dead...  Of course I came back. 

I miss them, their human form, their humanness.   It seems tragically stupid to live this lifjust to die with no explanation. 

I lose time on a mythic level now. What feels like a couple days is really a couple weeks. 

Wyeth gave me a hug today.  It was beautiful in  showing the transition and change people go through.  My daughter and I just began hugging each other. 

I still get angry at mom and dadprobably more now, because of finding those areas that were directly affected by their behavior and how  it played out on us boys. Now the four boys just aren't there anymore.  Hell, one lives in Minnesota somewhere now. 

Each moment is an eternal dance of making each moment count. 

Doc is one of those old men that I can just hate. He disgusts me.  Every single day they yell at his slumped body propped up in his wheelchair next to his roommate Fred, "Come on doc it's time for breakfast, lunch or dinner according to what time it is. Doc always replies the same, "time for breakfast."  He's right one out of three 

Times.  It's always morning to Doc. 

Doc sits every morning at the nurse's mobile med cart for an hour or longer making animal growlrrrrrrrr hmnnngrrrr sounds.  It just crawls up my spine. 

Doc is the Travelocity yard Nome dressed in his OSU hat every day with his snow-white hair poking out and his white beard going in all directions. The aides pull a t-shirt down over his enormous hard belly. One arm is always rapped like moms nome and Doc is missing one leg which are covered by lounge pants which also cover his gargantuan groin which also resembles moms Nome that I kept running over it when mowing the yard.. 

The day progresses along as not planned, Dertn still trying her best to escape, Ella still dying and all of us progressing past her door in the room she sharewith Sara, stroke victim that happened at young age which left her with an undisguisable language, just bababababa. 

And so we joyously continue 

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Comment by J.P. Hart on August 2, 2017 at 10:24am

Just don't lie awake and pray, Mike.

Maybe Netflux a little John Candy, a slow French Seventy-Five or two? 

Read your fine writin' early on and, contemplating an apropos (fuel injected huh!) comment, I blew out all kinda-larkspur-jasmine and brown recluse spider web detritus with a 'lectric blower on the periphery of Gloria's so-called infinity pool and (God help us all!) I'd knocked down a gorgeous dragonfly (:

Gently pinching its tail, I picked it up noticing that it was a not tattered (no pieces on the ground) but only impaired with leaf/seed/silk tangle!  Uncharacteristically thinking quickly, I located a bell jar on the workbench and, delicately placing the dragonfly in it, walking from shade to sunlight (one eye open) not breathing, I brushed and whispered away the jingle-jangle from the flying machine, let it sit still and WALLLA! Cast it by-the-grace-of-God to the summer wind.

Talking about joy and fun! Ou/\La/\La/\' How fast and vigorously high far away the dragonfly rejuvenated!

Hey! Wonderful writin' buds! Thank you! (Music Therapy soon. Scouts honor! First I need my San Jose Sharks' cap ;),


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