Moved from the creative board to protect the innocent

[stilltrucking]

<center>on a personal note apart from the exquisite prose</center>

I can relate
I try not to ramble on religion
but I think of the relief I felt when she (my rose of san antone) found her peace with the mighty god of her mother's before her
and then the guilt I felt for the relief that her suffering was over.


and I never awake from a dream about an empty cottage in despair
her aura is still with me

for what it is worth
they say it takes time
I don't know
as much as I thought I had prepared myself it did not really hit me till a week or so after her death that I would never see stop by and visit with her again.

not saying you going to feel any guilt about anything
but I wonder why Jews cover the mirrors in a house that is in mourning.

I am pretty stupid about religion mark
but I did not have a religious education
my father spared me that.
god rest his soul

Not the last time I cried
it seemed to comfort her
as if she was waiting to hear it.
to hear my sob
I don't know how I know that
The sob tore out of me and then she stopped breathing


I listened to her breathing intently
I know this is crazy
but in the fast last twenty five years since her death I have become more and more grateful I was with her when she drew her last breath

so sorry about this mnaz.

This mindless ramble

and I am sorry for your loss
_________________________
I may delete this
after I look at it awhile
repost it somewhere else to protect the innocent

[stilltrucking]

I am sure none of this relates to you. I am just putting it down here on the off-chance that there might be something that could be useful for you in the days ahead.


Some people go to priests, Virginia Woolf went to her friends.

Hemingway said his typewriter was his therapist.

All I got is my little silicon pal here. My thaumaturgical writing instrument that sucks the words out of my finger tips onto this page.

[stilltrucking]

"The mother is the first awesome miracle that haunts the child his whole life, whether he lives within her powerful aura or rebels against it."


http://ernestbecker.org/orange/

It was jitterbug who taught me how to get her to stop beating on me.
He gave me good advice.
"Don't cry." He was right, eventualy her arm would get tired and she would stop.

Like I say none of this relates to you. I am sure you never tried to strangle your mother. You have no guilt.


After all the heart attacks, the stroke, and now the cancer she was ready to die. We had all discussed it, her four children and her. My brother the physician announced to her doctor that Rose wanted no medical heroics. It was her decision and we were going to honor it.

She was at peace with her Jewish god and had no fear. And when she finally died in the ICU her doctor decided to play the hero.

So we brought her home with a silicon chip inplanted that kept kicking her heart in to beating.

And it took two weeks more for her to get back to it. As if she had to figure out how to overcome that doctor's good intentions.

I was with her constantly, twenty four seven for two weeks and there came a point when I was wishing she would die and let me go. Not so much a conscious thought that death wish, but close, I knew what I was thinking and tried to repress awareness of the thought but it was there.

Thus the guilt.

My uncle told me that Jews cover the mirrors after a death in the family because they do not want to see themselves. Less they feel guilty for living. Not sure if that is true.

[tinkerjack]

Cops and EMS all over homeboy's house on that thursday morning the day JFK was murdered. But it had nothing to do with assasinations. Her's was a natural death. The EMS charging up the stairs to make sure she was sincerely dead. They carrying all their miracle l gizmos that bring the dead back to life. But they paused in the door to her room stunned by the vision of a five thousand year old mummy on the bed. From a distance of six feet they were willing to conclude the old woman was dead.

And I played this song over and over and over
on Husserl's radio in my head

Maybe it was the weed or the no sleep for days, but I could not watch them bag her up. But I have an eidetic image etched on my retina of that small black bag wrapped body on the stretcher being wheeled out the front door of homeboy's house.




<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/KB1-1zuDGJ0&hl ... ram><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/KB1-1zuDGJ0&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>

I think what I love most about that video is the sound of their laughter at the end of the song.

[Nazz]

Thanks Jack. Means a lot, believe me.

[stilltrucking]

For all her granddaughters witnessing about Jesus the old women wanted an Orthodox funeral.

It has been so long now, 35 years. The grief does not ambush me anymore. I think the dreams helped. In the first years after her death I used to dream about her more than I do now.

The Architecture of The Temple of My Body, my dreaming brain.
The first dream was the saddest, maybe because I was afraid, an uncanny feeling. But in later dreams it was as if she was there to help me, to assure me that she was OK. and that I was going to be OK too...


very sorry mark

[stilltrucking]

I am sure she was saved, I mean she would have done anything to see her granddaughters happy.

She faced her death without fear, at peace with god.

Orthodox funerals are inexpensive, I think she wanted to spare homeboy as much expense as she could. Her coffin plain wood cost seven hundred dollars.
Which is what Social Security provides.

Just before she drew her last breath she looked into the mirror across from her bed and her last conscious expression the last image I have of her alive was one of a calm recognition.



As if she saw someone in the mirror she recognized as an old friend.


I will never forget the look on her face
My own personal enigma
Who did she see?

And then she was dead. And I got up and covered the mirror with a sheet.

[constantine]

a sad and haunting pastiche of memories.. i don't know how i'll be able to handle it.

[stilltrucking]

I don't know how I handled it.

I think mostly it was my dreams that helped me cope.

Thanksgiving day November 22, 1984

November 22 has always been a melancholy date for me., since 1963.

[mudshark]

reality. fucking reality. thanx for sharing.

[stilltrucking]

thanks for reading and taking the time to reply
sincerely
jt

I thought about you and your cats the other day.

[mudshark]

thats funny. cause we where just talking bout you.

[stilltrucking]

We? You were talking about me with your cats?

I don't want anymore pets.
Not a cat or a dog.
But.
If I ever did get another pet it would be something with a longer life span
I can't even handle the death of a pet

If I had a bigger back yard
I would consider maybe an elephant.



All dogs go to heaven
Rest in peace Nikko

[mudshark]

we had a dog like that in town once. he was kalled King. a song was made in his honour. it was called " relax King, everythings gonna be allright".
a punk rock song.

i cant handle seeing'em off either. no more dogs. cats have a way of dissapering on their own in this town. now all we have is the neighbour cat. buddy. they moved and im stuck with him. the two cats we where getting will have to wait.
aint got no good names for them anyway.

[mtmynd]

aint got no good names for them anyway.

great line. simple. to the point.