After all the years...

I have to wonder? Why is it that greed can bring some down to such a low vindictive level. Sadly, scavengers will always be waiting to feast on the fallen. Opportunistically sweeping in on what they cannot and will not ever understand. How dare these vultures ever believe their thievery entitles them to any piece of my son's legacy, my sanity, or a rightful balance of all the wrongs created from the hard painful years we as a family have endured since he left this earth...
How can they understand the dark painful years after his death, the need to grieve to feel the
emptiness and pain. Yet they gorged on the venerability, diluted the meaning and preyed and preyed on emotions that needed to be sacred and handled one by one, individually by a mother and a family who lost their child and their brother
Like a carnival they covered over the base of the matter, with Flem flam, gymnastics, and one show wonders... Brainwashing the niave for their own benefit to fill their own empty thirst and glutinize their own futures... They had no concern as to the living, feeling matter below their own "show", the place they covered with their fealth. Now the years have passed, the time to grieve
could be finally here.... Should be allowed to feel the emptiness left behind by his death and be allowed a time to heal, but the scavengers wont leave, they want to pick dry bones and drink of the little water there is... WHY????

I am thinking about the early days, the days when we packed up the van and took road trips.. New mexico, and the long one when I sold my other car and we went to the west coast, San Francisco, down south to San Diego, Arizona and back home... It took us a month... Ryan, me and grandma and the van packed full of Ryans special food, meds and everything he would need. I still have the video of the big ry in the back of the van "cherkeling" as we use to call it at the joy of the experience...

this past life

There were days, months, and years that were lost in the art of simple survival... Would I have changed it for something different? I feel mixed I would have preferred my life as it was, everyday in my role as a mother of a disabled child left me feeling grounded, like a steward knowing my purpose. When he was alive I bathed, fed, positioned, nurtured, sang and danced for my child. After he was gone, I could hear him around me all the time... I dont know how long it took for me to not instinctively go to get his medications ready, to fill his feeding bag, to not hear his voice, to not be by his side.. Sometimes... well alot of times... in my dreams I feel him and I am holding him... I feel every bit of him and and smell his hair and rub his feet like I did before and as I did the night and into the early hours of the morning when he took his last breaths and I laid by his side...