The blanket Mom made for Paul and me.
It’s been a year since I said goodbye for the final time. Mom was sent to the hospital in horrific shape. The disgusting and filthy place she had been sent to by the State made her worse.
Tag: death
My grandparents’ grave. My mother’s ashes are buried beneath the wreath my great-nephew, Wyatt, picked out. We must wait for Spring to add her headstone.
It has been a harrowing nine months since my mother was in a head-on collision. Our lives were forever changed on July 15, 2024. Today, her suffering is over.
I’ve been trying to keep this space as non-political as possible. Sometimes, however, you read the news with a smile. I was content to let the obituary notification for Henry Kissinger go, visit ishenrykissingerdead one last time, and move on with life. This morning, however, the first thing I read was about some shit South Dakota Governor Kristi Noem said.
Harvey outside our place at 554 W. 42nd Street.
Gram at Uncle Dave’s fishing competition July, 15, 2007.
Today would have been my grandmother’s 99th birthday. She passed away in 2011, but I still struggle with the idea that she is no longer alive and I will never see her again. As an atheist, I do not have the luxury of the idea of being with her again once I die. There is no heaven. There is no hell. Who we are – our mind, consciousness, personality, and character – is a unique combination of chemicals and neurons, which disperse once we have died.
