Jet To No Where

Help me find out if I am on a Jet To No where…or just on stand by.

Monday Afternoon…..

Before I spoke, I studied him. He looked familiar, as in a long time childhood friend way. I grew up in a small Italian, Catholic, white, family-oriented town. Everyone knew us. He looked like one of the guys……like the kind in the earlier part of the movie Goodfellas. He has that younger DeNiro look, wearing a buttoned down Cuban style shirt and pants. His hair was slick and dark…. and he had a cute, sweet smile…..like he was flirting with you without even trying. I felt at ease with him. I didn’t know why….I just know I did.

I had this vision, just for one minute, of him speaking to me in a deep Italian, rough and tough guy type of way. I gazed all over him with that sly sweet smile, glancing at me for 15 seconds and slowly glancing away. He was just giving me a little when he knew I wanted a lot. I could not break my stare and it was obvious, but I did not care. I never cared about asking for what I wanted or telling someone how I felt, good or bad.

I think it was the whole image that intrigued me. The badge…..the voice…his demeanor, look and stance….it all added up to an intoxicating combination….and I was drunk. For those briefs moments that were only seconds, I was transformed back to a teenager. I was almost giddy, yet acting just as seductive without saying a word.

I remember thinking how I wish it could all be just that simple again.

No responsibilities….bills…kids…nothing. Nothing to worry about except how I was going to start talking to this guy. Just like in high school. When you were dying to go over to that one guy your father told you never to even think about seeing. He was the dangerous teenager your daddy warned you about….and the more daddy told you no….the more you wanted it.

He pulled out his wallet, only it wasn’t a wallet. It was a roll of money with a thick rubber band around it. All hundreds, fifties and twenties….just like my old neighborhood guys had. I don’t know why he did this. He was fingering through the cash, as if he was counting it, but there really was no need to. There wasn’t a store for at least a mile around here. It seemed odd to me, but unwantingly sexy. My family had money. I never wanted for anything, but money was never something I considered where a guy was concerned. I had the best sex ever with some of the most broke-ass guys. Go figure.

I finally spoke.

“What do you need all of that money for?”, I simply stated.

“It’s bond money.”, he replied, tilting his head slightly with that sweet and sly smile that I could now not do without. He took out a pack of Camel no-filters and flipped one into his mouth. He lite a match still the the pack and proceeded to light is cigarette and blew it out. He put the pack and matches into his back pocket. He noticed I was smoking before.

“Do you want one?”, he softly offered.

I don’t smoke Camels. I prefer Parliment lights….always have for years, but I wanted a reason to get closer to him.

“Sure”, I replied in that same soft voice. I could be just as coy and flirty without trying too, if I wanted to.

He started to walk over to me. He was only about twenty or so feet away. There was no other noise except for his footsteps. It was the middle of Lake county. No buses, trucks and only the occasional car. I was getting nervous, but didn’t show it. He walked slowly and methodically….almost deliberate. It seemed to take forever. He smiled the whole time…he knew what he was doing. There was a method to his madness and he knew how to use it. He finally made it over to me, took out his pack of Camels again and I looked down. I stopped breathing for a second.

He had more that just a pack of Camels in his hands.

Monday

As I blew the smoke out of my less than pink lungs, it hung in the humid air right in from of me, like a cartoon balloon wanting to tell me something. He pulled up in a white truck, newer than most…..asked me if there was a leasing office, since there was a For Rent sign out in front. That sign must have put up and down a half dozen times since we moved here in August of last year.  It was really a no brainer. No credit or background check, five-hundred dollar deposit and seven-hundred and seventy-five dollars a month for a three bedroom, one bath duplex…..eight units total for rent, most were occupied for the time being. You would never get this much space in the heart of Orlando, so we opted for just inside of Lake County…Sorrento. I was happy to finally have our own place after a few months of staying with Ted’s brother, wife and kids. Leonard was extremely laid back and not much bothered him. His better half, Crystal was extremely meticulous and had some wild mood swings. Other than walking on a few eggshells…and the fact that our travel trailer was in their backyard hooked up to the house….it was bearable. They did have a great pool, which was a Godsend for May, June and July.

I said, “No, no leasing office.” I wasn’t going to get into a full on conversation with a guy out in the middle of nowhere. He then asked if we had a groundskeeper. Again I said, “No, no groundskeeper”….landlord lived in Georgia….she’s a “don’t ask, don’t tell” type of landlord. He thanked me and returned to his truck. He didn’t strike me someone looking for a place to live. He was going through some paperwork in his truck. So, my curiosity got the best of me.  I asked him what he was looking for.

It wasn’t the first time someone had come here to ask about tenants. I did a sex offender search online when we first moved here. There was one in the next duplex. I never really got to know him…not that I really gave a shit. He had been convicted of lewd and lascivious acts and battery on a child under 16. I made my older son Jake study his face, told him to stay away from him and let me know if he ever approached him.  Little did I know that my husband of eleven years would go over there that next Saturday and confront him. The guy could have been no taller then 5’9”…weighing about 100 lbs. Ted just flat out asked him.

“Do I have anything to worry about with you and my kid”? I was watching from the front door. The guy was about 22 or so and scared shitless. I would be too if Ted confronted me. He was a huge man. 6’3”, but all chest and arms and covered in tattoos. His hands were easily twice the size of mine. No knuckles….lost those years ago in drunken fights and barroom brawls.  His skin was a reddish-brown. Al those years of construction work outside had burned his Blackfoot Indian skin. He wasn’t full blooded Indian, but enough to have the skin. Short sandy blonde hair with a block shaped head. I don’t mean that in a mean way, it’s just the shape of his head. Very good looking…and loyal to a fault.  Even after all these years, some with doubt, I never regretted marrying Ted three days after we met in 1998.

I later learned people called him Chris, but he was John Callhoun on the Florida Sex Offender Search.  There were two or three other kids with him. When you’re pushing forty, a twenty-two year old is a kid to me. No one said a word…stunned silence I guess. He finally worked up enough courage to talk.

“No, no, no….there’s no problem….it was a mis-….uh….I was with a girl and her parents…..”. He said he was nineteen when it happened. He was dating a fifteen year old girl. Her parents supposedly went nuts and had him arrested. I’ll never know the real story, but I would never need to.  They all gave Ted a wide berth as he just slightly smiled and said, “Good, so were on the same page”?

Yea…they were all over that page. The proverbial “I will beat the living shit out of you and you will be found in the trunks of ten different cars” page.  I later learned that he lived there with a few roommates and their girlfriends. How he had a girlfriend of five years, I’ll never know, but she was of age…although extremely young looking. He was supposedly an uncle to his roommate, Kenny….even though he was younger than Kenny by about six years. Through marriage they said. Kenny turned out to be not so bad after a few more casual meetings outside while walking to the mailbox. He knew the landlord personally and let us know if she was coming to town so we wouldn’t have to see her. I have never even met her until this day…and that’s fine by me. Everyone is late with the rent at some time or another and so were we. She loved her fifty dollar late fees. Hey, when you rent to anonymous people, you essentially get what you pay for. Inconsistency.

I walked over to the guy in the white truck and he spun around with a huge file and some sort of badge around his neck. I looked it over, but could only make out the word “Recovery”. He was a bail bondsman. He showed me a picture of a Latino-looking type guy and asked if I knew him. He had an address for him that was off by a few numbers and one letter. I said that he lived here, but I didn’t know him, per say. He then proceeded to show me three pictures of other people….their driver’s licenses. I confirmed who they were and that they lived with him in the third duplex over from me. The mother, father, girlfriend….all in that same file. I didn’t even notice all of their names except for the father. It was the same as the guy he was looking for. That’s why they call him “junior”, I thought.

Then my big mouth got the best of me…again.

“I have zero tolerance f…

“I have zero tolerance for zero tolerance”.
~Alexandra C. Vader

The Icy Chards of Truth

Truth Floats Downstream

“Sometimes, if you stand on the bottom rail of a bridge and lean over to watch the river slipping slowly away beneath you, you will suddenly know everything there is to be known.”~Winnie the Pooh

I went to his house. I hadn’t been there in four years. He
wasn’t expecting me. My sister came with me, but Ted refused to come in. He
stayed outside, in the cold, biting air with chards of glass floating down the
stream that flowed behind his home. Ted waded in the shivering coldness.

“It will feel even more cold inside of his home.”, Ted said.

She wouldn’t leave the kitchen. He never came when I rang the
doorbell. Peering through the fogged front, Alison had to open the heavy cherry
stained door. He still didn’t come.

I waited……and waited for which seemed like days, but only
seconds. He never wore shoes when he was at home. In a soft, cottony button
down shirt and khaki pants with dark blue socks…just as I had always
remembered, he strolled into the living room. 
He wasn’t excited to see me. He looked nervous, yet angry.

“What do you want now, Alex?”, he simply stated. 

“Why….. do I have to always want something to
visit?”, defensively I remarked. 

“You always have before…”…..And his words
seemed to trail off, but they weren’t his words. He would never say that to me.
He would have been so excited and melancholy if we had met in a parking lot,
but not at his home with her there. I could hear the dishes being thrown into
the dishwasher, but never enough to be broken. Everything was fine china, you
see. I could picture the dishes being broken in slow motion, like in the movie Titanic when the ship was sinking.

Only the best.

And I screamed over and over., “Why don’t you care if we
talk?”….”Why don’t you call your grandchildren? I have been lying
about you for years, saying you have been out of town, working, busy…anything
I could think of when Jakob asked. I have been trying to paint you and her in a
good light, but Jakob is not a little boy anymore. He’s smart and he knows.
What am I supposed to tell him?”

My screams turned to tears of anger and grief as I made my
way into the kitchen. He didn’t answer me and didn’t stop me from going.

“You callous, greedy bitch!”, I growled at her.
“You have no heart! Why am I protecting you? Why have I been lying for
you….YOU of all people? You were his grandmother for seven years and then….nothing! I told Jakob
the truth. I told him you were mad at me and I was sorry that he was caught in
the middle.” 

My tears stopped dead.

“I told him you were a cold, hard bitch who only thinks
of herself.” He knows what you are now. I have stopped trying to protect
him from the inevitable truth.”, I spewed toward her. She continued to
load the dishwasher ever so slowly….”He knows now…he knows….”, I softly trailed off as if in a Xanax induced daze.

My sister was dragging me away….”Stop Alex. They will
never change. It’s not worth it….it’s just not worth it….it just won’t matter”

“WOULD YOU STILL LOVE HIM IF HE WERE BROKE?!?”, I
screamed at her, so loud my voice scratched the inside of my throat.

“WOULD YOU STAY IF HE SUDDENLY LOST
EVERYTHING?”……”WOULD YOU STILL LOVE HIM IF HE WERE BROKE?”…..”ANSWER
ME!”…”ANSWER ME, YOU MANIPULATIVE CUNT!”, I spat at her….the
words falling on deaf ears….she never looked at me and never became angry.
She did as she always had.

She started to cry….the crocidile tears she had always shown for my father….  for my father to see yet again that I was the crazy one.

“You need to leave now, Alex.”, he said to me in a
monotone voice. “This is not the time.”

“When will be a good time for you,
dad?”….”Is there ever going to be a good time?”….I said to
him as I was leaving the cherry stained door for what I knew would be the last
time. 

My sister lead me out by my hand, yet holding me up. I said
everything I wanted to say. I didn’t want to, but I had to. If he would have
just been happy to see me. If he would have just, for once in his pathetic
marriage, stood up to her….but that day will never come.

We found Ted behind the house, lying in the cold water with
crystal clear ice surrounding him, sleeping. I was yelling, “What are you
doing?!?”….”You are going to freeze to death.” 

He stood up, dripping with icicles and asked, “How did everything go?” He was joyfully
optimistic. 

“As expected.” I robotically said….”As
expected.”

Addiction is Not for the Weak-Minded…..

So…..Amy Winehouse died. Big shocker.

Hundreds of people die everyday from addiction to drugs and alcohol. This particular person just happened to be famous, so it made the news.

Here is my question: Why is addiction put into the category as as a “disease”?

Here is an excerpt from the following web site: http://www.addictionsandrecovery.org/is-addiction-a-disease.htm

Is Addiction a Disease?

Addiction is like most major diseases. Consider heart disease, the leading cause of death in the developed world. It’s partly due to genes and partly due to poor life style choices such as bad diet, lack of exercise, and smoking. The same is true for other common diseases like adult-onset diabetes. Many forms of cancers are due to a combination of genes and life style. But if your doctor said that you had diabetes or heart disease, you wouldn’t think you were bad person. You would think, “What can I do to overcome this disease?” That is how you should approach addiction.

This is complete bullshit. I was born with heart disease and not one single person in my family has it. I am sure I am not the only case like this either. I did not ask for this disease, which has turned progressively worse and I have even added 2 more heart diseases. I did not lead a poor lifestyle prior to coming out of the womb. There is no rehab I can go to that will completely make it go away.

Another excerpt:

Addiction is due 50 percent to genetic predisposition and 50 percent to poor coping skills.

So, you have a 50/50 shot of beating this of becoming an addict in the 1st place? People say that if one cannot overcome an addiction, they are weakminded. I think you have to be strong minded to keep up with an addiction. To put one’s body  and loved ones through months and years of abuse takes a lot of balls and an extremely stong mind.

“The AMA believes it is important for professionals and laymen alike to recognize that alcoholism is in and of itself”. http://www.ama-assn.org/resources/doc/alcohol/alcoholism_treatable.pdf

I do not know anyone that has been granted Social Security Disability based on alcoholism and drug addiction as a “disease”. If that were the case, ANYONE who drinks too much would be eligible for SSD. WTF?

All of the information below is from this blog:

http://themoralskeptic.blogspot.com/2010/08/addiction-and-is-it-fair-to-call-it.html

“To start the search for an accurate description it would be handy to look some of the pitfalls other descriptions have had. The American Medical Association
for instance seems To be a little wishy-washy in their understanding of Alcoholism stating first that the AMA, “Believes it important for professionals and laymen alike to recognizing alcoholism is in and of itself a disabling and handicapping condition.” They go on to call Alcoholism a handicap or disability 9 more times and sating in conclusion that, “Hopefully, this language clarification will reinforce the concept that alcoholism is in and of itself a disabling and
handicapping condition.

Well that is a clarification is great until you get to the very next paragraph where the AMA states it, “Endorses the proposition that drug dependencies, including alcoholism, are diseases and that their treatment is a legitimate part of medical practice,” and “Encourages physicians, other health professionals, medical and other health related organizations, and government and other policymakers to become more well informed about drug dependencies, and to base their policies and activities on the recognition that drug dependencies are, in fact, diseases.

So in one short address of the issue the AMA has called Alcoholism a disease, handicap, disability, and condition. It consistently claims that it would be
fair to characterize alcoholism in any of those terms. This trouble is not unique to the AMA, because addiction’s is a hard term to define. That difficulty
makes it seem like a shotgun approach would be the correct way to look at addiction.  Throw a bunch of different terms at the problem and you’ll get a usable framework for what it is. That being the case it would be handy to see what the shotgun was loaded with.

It is quasi-handicap because there does seem to be a genetic predisposition to addiction that leads people to become addicted more easily.  Researches have even have gone so far as to claim that they have identified what the alcoholism gene is. That gene is the CREB and it is linked with both
alcoholism and anxiety. When rats were bred without that gene they drank 50% more than usual, showed a higher preference rate for alcohol over water compared with normal rats, and displayed more anxiety than normal rats that decreased while they were drinking. So there is evidence that addiction can be a natural handicap a person has, at least in some cases.

Alcohol could also be described as a disability, although it wasn’t included in the Americans with Disabilities Act and the Rehabilitation Act of 1973 nor is it a covered disability for Social Security. The World Health Organization describes a disability as,”An umbrella term, covering impairments, activity
limitations, and participation restrictions. An impairment is a problem in body function or structure; an activity limitation is a difficulty encountered by an
individual in executing a task or action; while a participation restriction is a problem experienced by an individual in involvement in life situations.

So this definition is vague enough for alcoholism to be included, because when a person is drunk they are impaired, but disability, like the term handicap, is a rough description and it might be a miss-characterization.

The third term, disease, is probably the most controversial of the terms listed to describe addictions, but it is also the best documented. There is also a good body of evidence for calling addictions a type of disease. Yet, before that evidence can be looked at it a useful definition of disease should be given. Medline Plus gives the definition of disease as,”An impairment of the normal state of the living animal or plant body or one of its parts that interrupts or modifies the
performance of the vital functions, is typically manifested by distinguishing signs and symptoms, and is a response to environmental factors (as malnutrition, industrial hazards, or climate), to specific infective agents (as worms, bacteria, or viruses), to inherent defects of the organism (as genetic
anomalies), or to combinations of these factors.

I think that is a fair description of what characterizes a disease and Nora Volkow and Joanna Fowler show how addiction meets that criterion. In
Addiction, a Disease of Compulsion and Drive: Involvement of the  Orbitofrontal Cortex
, they show how addiction not only works with the reward centers of
the brain, but also has an affect on the part of the brain active in people who are obsessive compulsive. They argue that “IntermittentDA stimulation secondary to chronic drug use leads to disruption of the orbitofrontal cortex via the striato-thalamo-orbitofrontalcircuit, which is a circuit involved in regulating drive (Stussand Benson, 1986). The dysfunction of this circuit results in the compulsive behavior in addicted subjects and the exaggeratedmotivation to procure and administer the drug regardless of its adverse consequences. This hypothesis is corroborated by imaging studies showing disruption of striatal, thalamic andorbitofrontal brain regions in drug abusers (Volkow et al.,1996a).

Basically, chronic drug use subverts the brains thinking and creates a compulsion for use, which would be near the same level as other compulsions. Volkow and Flower go so far as to conclude that, “It wouldtherefore appear that during addiction the chronic drug administration has resulted in brain changes that are perceived as a state of urgency not dissimilar to that observed on states of severe food or water deprivation.

So the body/mind would have cravings the way that starving people would crave food. This is a diseased state where choice is subverted to the drives of reward and compulsion. It is due to this that the AMA and virtually every other drug treatment site can say that addiction is a disease. Addiction follows a pattern that is like that of a disease, it can be debilitating and leads to impaired brain function, especially in how it creates a compulsion in some people.

Yet a certain word is left out completely of Volkow and Flower’s article. ‘Choice’ is never mentioned once, that is the word that breaks the disease line of thinking. All the above is true about how an addiction to something like alcohol works, but it still doesn’t account for how a person becomes a chronic addict before the compulsion is created, at some level the word ‘choice’ has to be addressed by anyone who supports the disease model of addiction.  The role of choice is often overlooked by supporters of that model, but their critics often fail to understand that there is a credible background for referring to an addiction as a disease.

In the end I think it is somehow perverse to put alcoholism in the same category as HIV, cancer, and numerous other afflictions that don’t have the same level of control. I admit that some addicts don’t have total control, but it still seems like a mis-categorization. There has to be a more fair and accurate way to describe addiction.

Why can’t an addiction just be referred to as an addiction? If it was we would be rid of the vague yet all encompassing definitions that addictions are trying to be squeezed into. It would be an apt characterization of what is going on, while also bringing none of the extra baggage that comes with those other terms. While it might be fair to describe addiction in disease like terms, it isn’t the best description, and it does a disservice to disease.

Set down your shotgun and be more direct. Addiction doesn’t need the other labels and instead of spending time worrying about where it fits and how it can be defined worry instead about the actually affects of addiction socially, physically, and personally. ”

Thanks for reading,
-the moral skeptic

Factual, informative and 100% correct. Addiction does not need any more labels. It is what it is….addiction…..and Amy Winehouse is dead. It is a shame, but her 15 minutes of fame were gone 30 minutes ago.
 

 

 

Quote of the Day

One of the things cops learn first is that everyone lies. Some people to hide things, some people just for the hell of it, but everyone lies. Assume that everyone is hiding something, it saves time.

LAURELL K. HAMILTON, The Killing Dance

Quote of the Day

That you may retain your self-respect, it is better to displease the people by doing what you know is right, than to temporarily please them by doing what you know is wrong.

~William J. H. Boetcker~

Thought for the Day

“What you need to know about the past is that no matter what has happened, it has all worked together to bring you to this very moment. And this is the moment you can choose to make everything new. Right now.”
~ Unknown

It’s not easy being Blue…

Being depressed is very difficult. I don’t mean the treatment of depression, the endless doctors and trial error of medications. It’s not even the hope of one day you may just get it under a manageable level. I mean it is extremely difficult to STAY depressed.

I have dealt and managed depression since I was…oh…about 22 or so. I have had thoughts os suicide over those years. I have never once attempted it, even in the slightest. I suppose now, if that fleeting thought renders its maniacal head, my children immediately spring to my mind and the thought is crumbled. Simple, easy…without a doubt. But what kept me from attempting it in the past? When I was at my lowest of lows….darkness closing in when I was a young, single girl (I would not yet say a “woman”, as the old cliché goes….”If I knew then what I now”.). Up all night after working in a club. Drinking, drugs, men  and women whom were strangers that I had a night with and never saw again. I know now why I did what I did, but why did I never try to “end it all”?

I do know now….as stated above, “If I knew then….blah, blah, blah….”.

I simply like being depressed.

I like sitting in my room undisturbed, thinking of all the problems I have to fix. Drapes closed when the sun is shining beautifully outside….most people would go out and relish in it all. Anything to get out of the rut of funk they are in. Not me. I actually enjoy being depressed.

I am an admitted  television junkie. I love to watch TV…anything on the proverbial “boob tube”. I have my favorite shows that I either record or get home in time to watch on weekday evenings, but when I am in my room in the depression mode, I’ll watch anything. My husband will come in and ask me what I am watching. Sometimes the answer is “Nothing important”. I will watch the same movie over and over again, even if it was bad the first time around. I watch marathons of reality shows that are not even entertaining.

I am having my pacemaker changed out this Monday. I haven’t had a good feeling about this for a while now. I cannot explain it, but it is an unshakable feeling, yet not one of fear. I am preparing to record my will today, maybe tomorrow. I need to burn a copy and send it to my lawyer, as my last will is incomplete. So, as I am making these arrangements, the inevitable thoughts of life and death have been plaguing on my mind.

So, as I sit here in my room, drapes closed to the beautiful day I could be having outside. Not even a fleck of light shining through with no desire to gaze at the calm waters of the lake I live on. What is on TV today? The Devil’s Advocate……Interview wuth a Vampire….various episodes on Intervention. Perfect material to entertain my depressive state of mind that I have no intention of even trying to dismiss. Life, death, dying, immortality, the devil, God, heaven and hell…..all the big ones.

I did manage to take a shower, which I have to thank for this writing. So many an idea has come out of my brooding in the shower. It’s where my best material comes from…or shall I say, comes together. The material has always been here.

Depression and anxiety are the new black.  Everyone is seeing a shrink and it is almost a daily conversation with people….”Well, what are you on to get through life”?  There is no stigma attached to depression and anxiety like there was 20 years ago. Everyone admits to it and openly talks about it, so I have no clue as to why anyone is even seeing shrinks any longer. One would think therapy is a couple of people having coffee at Starbucks these days. But, I rarely sit at Starbucks when I go. It is always in and out or the drive through.

So, Interview with a Vampire is over now. With all of the Twilight saga and True Blood now….you have your brooding, depressive vampires too. Louie is miserable…..Edward is suffering for eternity and Bill just wants to be one of the humans. Even immortality is getting depressing. So much for the glitz and glamour of living forever, being beautiful and never wanting for anything. That is out of the question too.

It’s 4:00 PM. I feel like getting up. I think I’ll go have a smoke. Yes, I still smoke with all my health problems and I don’t give a shit because I am not ready to quit yet.

It’s the only thing I enjoy besides being depressed these days.

Obituaries

May 9, 2011

Alexandra Catherine Senape Vader, 41,   passed away today from complications due to heart failure. She leaves behind her husband of 12 years, Theodore Clark Vader and 2 children, Jakob Riley Vader, age 10 and Owen Morrison Vader, age 3.  She was attending the University of Central Florida working toward her degree in English Literature and Creative Writing and had earned her A.A. degree from Valencia Community College in December 2010. She had been working on writing a book for the past 15 years, but never was able to complete it.

Born in Washington D.C., she was from Hazleton, Pennsylvania and resided in Casselberry, Florida. She enjoyed writing, family, the beach and music. In lieu of flowers, please send donations to the American Heart Association.

Unremarkable.

41….I thought that was so very old when I was 20 something. There were years to do all the things I wanted to. I had all the time in the world……tick, tock, tick, tock…..

Time is a luxury. A luxury we take for granted. “I’ll do it tomoorw….I will see my friend another time….I will call my sister next week….I will send my nephew’s gift next month….”  These are the things we tell ourselves. This is what we say to justify our busy schedules and jumbled lives.

It passes so quickly. I have said this before……last night, I went to bed 21 and woke up 41.

“The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.”    ~ Harriet Beecher Stowe ~

I have so many deeds left undone…….it pains me to think of them all. As I sit here, wondering why I let so much time go by, so many accomplishments left unfinished….I wonder if I will ever do it all.
“I thought I was going to sneak away tonight. What a glorious night. Every face I see is a memory. It may not be a perfectly perfect memory. Sometimes we had our ups and downs. But we’re all together, and you’re mine for a night. And I’m going to break precedent and tell you my one candle wish: that you would have a life as lucky as mine, where you can wake up one morning and say, “I don’t want anything more.” Sixty-five years. Don’t they go by in a blink? ”

 ~Anthony Hopkins as William Parrish in Meet Joe Black

I will write this obituary again one day. Not the real one…the one that was meant for me….the one that may be the groundwork for the real one. We shall see.

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