No Consequence

How sad it is when you get to the end of your life, it’s of no consequence. There is no great fanfare, no great party, just the possible end of somebody else’s burden.

That’s what it becomes and it’s not right. A comment on the current population is how they treat the elderly.

And she lived in the golden age of the planet. No one to step forward even with a cursory congratulations.

Just a declaration of confusion and I’ll send you the literature on the different places.

In the end, I could no longer make it right for her. Sorry mum. At least I still make you laugh.

I went to mum’s assessment. She didn’t go so well, pretty much solitary confinement, not too much doubt there. It's bread and water from here on out. Funny, no matter the education, no matter the wealth, we all end up the same... needing someone to wipe our arses.

I can’t stay here, said mum.

Why not, asked the assessment lady.

I might, I might, I might get to like it.

I, not only got the neighbour to feed the cat indefinitely, she's even going to go in and change the lights around. Whoo hoo! I just straight out and asked her. Although, apparently, I do have certain allure over middle aged women. I find I can charm, even just on half strength charm, not even the full throttle. They give me that look

... it's to do with the fluttering of the eyes, be it briefly and a certain smile...

and more often, than not, they respond to my requests. It's a recent power, I've noticed over the last number of years.

Life's like the TV series Heroes, more powers just seem to keep coming. (I'm sure, said by Forest Gump, on my sound track, anyway. I thought that was such a woefully bad movie, that it would, actually, keep me on my toes, you know.)

OMG! Life is precious. Don't get me wrong, foetuses aren't precious, there is a never ending supply of those. I mean real, place to be, a home where I belong, with family and friends who adore me, kind of life. People with lives. Because once it's gone, it never comes back.

I cried on my way home in the car. Is that what boys do?

Actually, I cried when I took my brother's call. I didn't think I was going to, but I did. No getting around it, couldn't hide it, sob, sob. Not exactly what a straight brother wants to hear when his gay brother answers the phone, probably worst nightmare stuff. He was cool, I called him back.

My dad and mum have now done their bit; the rest is, now, really up to me. Yikes!