Don't worry about me

My son called me last night....he worries about me

I must look pitiful to him! an old woman, sitting alone, retired, in a house.

Poor old thing.

He feels it is so unfair that I have no one to grow old with.

He feels it is so unfair (and he is unnerved also) that all I talk about is death.

I had to  gently explain to him that all of my presence in this place IS about death.

That death was the script I chose, to know it, to embrace it fully , to understand it.

It bothers him to no end.

"You act like you think about Joey all the time, I can't do that! " he tells me.

"I am still too angry to think about Joey!" he tells me.

Okay, son, I understand. I told him I had to break a few dishes and tell God to go fuck itself for a long time.

sometimes I still do.

"Surely you don't think of Joey 24 hours a day 7 days a week every second of the day??? even when you are with your grandson??"

Yes, son, I think of Joey all the time. there is not a time when I am not thinking of Joey.

I also had to explain to him that he is 35. even if all of these experiences had not occured, I am still 62 in linear time and one embraces the ideas and learns about death anyway.

I explained to him that I wrote this script and it seems to be about learning what death is.


He is not pleased with my words, but at least he is accepting.


He says my other son probably doesnt associate much with me because of my constant talk about death. He says they both don't want to deal with what happened to Joey.

Well, thats okay.

I have to.

I always will. I cannot change to please them.


I love them both as I love Joey. to Infinity and Beyond.