Big Brother
With the projects here on hold, Big Brother's death back in January has been haunting with renewed intensity. For certain, he was with me as we puzzled the meaning of those caddilacs driving down the farm rental properties through child eyes. Has he been with me during the entire present day flashback series? When I exercise my delusions of spirituality, I cannot doubt it. He isn't even mad at me for not having noticed.
This has not been a healthy place to grieve my brother's death. It feels even less so now. I am feeling a tremendous need to escape the Surname Family Drama and grieve the death of a poor man who shared the child sex trafficking trauma with me. I got help. He got profiled. I abondened him, all the way to letting a rich man's death be more important than a poor man's.
Think I wanna go sit on the widow's walk at Fort Defiance State Park. . . For sure I can't do another five months here, waiting for the caddies to arrive with the official go-ahead. Yeah, I know. . . The check's in the mail and you will respect me in the morning.
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I remember 30 years ago, bringing up the thought that child prostitutes weren't the ones breaking the law...that it was the people paying for them.
Got shot down pretty thoroughly...but I've never changed my mind. Sort of amazed that the law is finally agreeing with me ***looks up to see if pig poop might land on my head***.
What happened to your brother is just one of many reasons why I can't look back on past decades and think of them as "good 'ol days". Nope...not a chance. Rose colored glasses make everything look so pretty. Bleck.
The morality of Not Seeing...just doesn't sit well with me.
Hugs as you process, Patti
Hugs im sorry.
I am very sorry Arfie for what you are feeling right now. I would be feeling the same, if not worse, if it had been any of my siblings. Please receive the deepest sympathies from a fellow sexual exploitation survivor. My thoughts and prayers are with you during this sad time. PO
The widow's walk at Fort Defiance is settling into my thoughts as a viable plan. It was underwater at my last river expedition. Both the Mississippi and the Ohio rivers were experiencing floods. River boats were quite literally being tied to tree tops. There at the confluence, Fort Defiance was immersed to the highway parking lot. It's okay. Fort Defiance floods so often that the park designers designed for it. The widow's walk is solid concrete. I am confident it will outlast the Statue of Liberty.
The hydro-power there at the confluence barely shows on the surface, but river boat captains approach with caution. Hands down the bestest psycho sort spot I have ever found.
Hubs has yet to give his blessing. His blessing would be nice, but I amnae sure the lack is a show stopper. We see. For now, I am running flight therapy exercises to determine, "Am I running to or am I running from?" I give those exercises days to run, but just now I think I am running to. I really do need to grieve my brother and . . . The widow's walk at Fort Defiance is a place I have processed many levels of grief, already. My sanctuary? The name fits the need? Whatever. It calls.