She was 91, 92 next month.
Sometimes you would wonder what do grown elderly adults of elder parents want. You’re an adult of 61 years of age maybe married maybe not have children maybe not-but the attachment to this trunk is like a vine wrapped and clinging for dear life.
The time had come-clear darkness and peace forever-the souls’ sanctuary. The flow of energy now drifting off slowly-breath slipping back into the throat and getting caught. Agonal.
At deaths door. Let me in-let me in she cried in her mind.
She asked for this moment for many years-how tired she was-how utterly tired of living-everyday waking to that smell-that indescribable scent of death.
“Good Morning”, the blue coated black woman said.
“Why am I still here”, she thought.
Sweet Jesus why am I burdened with this forever life-this never ending pill popping-needle injecting-hospital attending-doctor fussing God damn life.
What can I do-what did I do or not do that I’m here-still here for others to gawp at and preen me for a day ahead with other decaying beings.
No, you didn’t ask to be born but you were.
You made the best of it.
But life is not an ever ending process-life is to die.
And the business of dying is not allowed as it is a business.
Life and its never-ending extension is a foreign exchange. These things don’t happen out of altruism or empathy or compassion all the buzz words.
No, this American dream of never ending life is about money-jobs-control and the consuming of another at all their costs.
You: you don’t own your area of square footage here-you are to be colonised-conquered-an area of square feet for pioneering extenders.
Life=Currency. Very profitable 1… 2