Lessons of death, and the meanings of death, in relation to, life, learned by a man, from his daughter’s, pet guinea pig…translated…
The daughter and her mother had three guinea pigs, to almost two years to date. One of them was named “Candy”, the oldest, and the physical wellbeing is, deteriorating, he’d become, very, slow to move around, and it’d, made us worry that his life may, be, nearing, end.
That evening, as I’d rolled down the steel doors of my workshop to turn in for the night, I’d walked over to the cage, and found Candy, DEAD, not moving, lying on his, back, with one, two black patches on his, belly. Although, this was, predicted to come, but, I’d still felt, a bit, flustered, after all, I’d only took him out to play with him, just earlier this morn, and he was fine in the afternoon too. I’d pulled open the steel rolling doors, in the darkness, selected a potted plant in my garden, dug up some dirt, placed Candy in to his final, place of, rest there.
This morning, I’d approached Candy’s kennel, the bath sand, the exercise wheel, the tiny castle, the tiny cave, the marble bed, the water………….everything was, as it’d, been, to the food I’d, fed to him, still in his, dish, it’s just, that the owner of the cage is, already, dead and, gone.
as the pet guinea pig lay, dying…photo from online
Looking at what Candy left behind, I’d felt, that how short-lived our physical forms can, be; if my daughter and her mother are willing, that cage can be, used as a home for, another. To here, I’d suddenly felt, that the relation of Candy to the cage, is merely, a “passerby”, that Candy wasn’t the owner. And, as this thought came, I’d felt, that vacant, void.
After a short while, the line, “life is not measured by the years, but the good moments you had” surfaced. This made me feel, a little bit, better. Although Candy’s life may be short, but, he was the spirit of his, cage, the cage with Candy in it, that’s, alive, without the guinea pig, the cage turned into, nothing more than, an, empty, shell.
It’s hard to predict how long a life is to go. I’d once heard, that the tiny critters had only lived, for one day, dying in the morning, that’s before their time, and in the afternoon, that’s considered, longevity—and, comparing to this, Candy lived for, two whole, years. And yet, if I compared it to the sun, the moon, the mountains, and the rivers, the lengthiness of life, paled by, comparison.
There are always two sides to one thing, a beginning, and an, end, life, that coexists with, death. I’d, encouraged myself, to stop feeling grief over the death of that tiny, guinea pig, that I must, use that ordinariness of mind, to see and experience life in all of its, fragility, and how nothing stays, the same. I need to learn to cherish what I have in the moment, to take advantage of the moment in time; to enjoy life to the fullest, so when my end finally comes, I can face it, with absolutely, NO, regrets.
And to think, that a tiny little, guinea pig has, such a, huge lesson of life and death to offer to this father. That still just showed, that everything we encounter is a lesson to be learned, if we only, seek it out, like how this man learned about life, and death, from the death of his own daughter’s, pet guinea pig.
Another tragedy, from the long-term care “division” here, and this still keeps on happening! Off of the Front Page Sections, translated…
The Neighbors Smelled Something Rancid, as the Police Broke Down the Door, the Bodies Had Already Rotted, the Family Was NOT Listed as High-Risk, the City Councilperson: the Social Welfare Policies Should Get Reevaluated Again
The fifty-five-year-old Wang took care of his own eighty-two year-old bedridden mother on his own long term, yesterday, both were found dead, in their old residential three-story mansion home in Shuling District, Hsinbei City, the bodies were both, rotted already. Based off of the preliminary reports of the police, Wang committed suicide, while his mother died of illness, and who died first, and the causes of death is still, pending autopsy.
The district manager, Lin told, that Wang is the eldest son, had been caring for his long-term bedridden mother on his own, Wang’s younger brother lives close by, is the sole economic provider of the family, the younger brother originally wanted to place their mother in a home, but Wang refused, insisted on caring for her himself, and yet, both died.
The local police investigated, that Wang’s family wasn’t listed as high concern to the social services, there were NO records of seeking out help, the mother-son pair lived in the three-story home; Wang’s mother is elderly, had a stroke before, with the progressive conditions, was long time bedridden, immobilized, with Wang shouldering the care all on his own.
At around two in the afternoon, the neighbors called that they smelled rotten corpse, the fire department and the police came, broke down the door, found Wang’s mother dead on the bed of the first floor bedroom, the son dead in the bedroom on the third, both had died some time, because of the weather being too hot, the bodies already rotted out, there was no note.
At the preliminary investigations of the scene, there was no outside forces, the police suspected that Wang committed suicide, his mother died of illness, but, who died first, is still pending autopsy.
The Hsinbei Social Services stated, that the man in charge of the local borough already rushed over to take care of the funeral for the families.
The city councilwoman, Liao told, that the government should reexamine the social welfare policies, to set up a looser evaluation for filing for government assistance in long-term care means, so the social security network can be set properly, through the aging club, the dine-together, and the long-term care locations, to keep tabs on the elderly’s situations; for the long-term bedridden elderly, the city government should send people to their homes to schedule the visits to see if they’re all right.
And so, despite how the system is set up (not to mention, running already!), this SHIT still keeps on, recurring, because these are the people who can’t ask for help, and, the city government just doesn’t have the eyes, the minds, to keep tabs on everybody in the city who’s in need of the assistance, and, relying on the local boroughs, that’s not going to work, because, it’s one to, how many households again per district? Exactly, so this is why this keeps on happening, and the city council is blaming it on the city in sum! But it still isn’t the city’s fault…
A poem on the despair, the desolation of the aftermath of an, earthquake, translated…
“I Woke This Morning/and Realised/there were/no birds/left”~~Charlotte Trevella
The Light & Dark, Clock
Matter-of-Fact
The Feathers, Light in Sorrows
The Murmurs of Dusts & Sands
Breathing Became an Unharmonized Music
The Moon Swelled Up More
the aftermath…with the world all around, broken into, bits, and, pieces, yet, people’s lives still, go, on…photo from online
The Skeletal Abandon of Tires
The Puss of the Tar. At a Quarter Past, Midnight
The Bright Light that Came Out of No Way
Whose Face is This?
The Rusted Iron, the Tulips, the Windowsills
Broken Glass, the Mandibles
Fate is Heavy Like the Buddha
Under the Angry Gazes of the Roof
Girl & Boy, the Rubbles
With the Purple & Yellow Flowers, the Search Dogs Went Seeking
Seven on the Scale, Another Seven
Above the Rest of the World
In the Pupils of the Moss
The Clouds, the Geese, Underneath that Scorching Sun
The Jets Still Shot Through the Skies
The Skies Cracked Wide Open Like the Chest Cavity
With the Broken Bones that Fell Out, All Over the, Places
with the rescue missions, ongoing…photo from online
And this, is what, despair looked, like, after a massive scale disaster, an earthquake, everything is broken down to bits and pieces, and, there may be someone who’s, buried deep, beneath the rubbles, and, nobody knows, if the individuals who were buried alive, will be, saved, or if they are, going to die, or if they’re, already, dead. That is, how, unpredictable, life, is…
The measures of this man, how he’d, given all he could in life, and left behind, a wonderful, legacy after his, death…translated…
Zhong-Ji is Very Passionate and Puts Everything He Has into Work, the Tiananmen Incident in Beijing, in the Rain of Bullets, He’d Interviewed the Witnesses, Victims, & Those Who Participated, Had it Not Been the Manager of the Station, Lee Ordering Everybody to Retreat, He’d Thought about, Staying…………
No Matter How Difficult the Check-Ups, He’d Agreed to Them, in an, Instant
It’d been said, that he’d, passed, so, abruptly.
The medical staff members kept trying to pinpoint the source of his infections, but, he was in a coma due to the medications they’d administered to him, he couldn’t say a word, but, the machines showed his vitals were dropping, the blood pressures dropped sharply, then, the heart slowed, slowed…………then, stopped. He’d, used his behaviors, to prove his statements of death before he’d died: how I will go, is leaving NO regrets behind, free and, clear.
He was, the noted good friend in the news media industry, in the business realms, the not-for-profit organizations, everybody who knew him deemed him a good friend who’s, understanding, and kind. He was, Zhong-Ji Liu.
In the ten months he’d battled it out with his illness, he was, the best, most compliant sort of wonderful patient that any doctor and nurse could, ever, ask for, no matter how awful the checks, how painful the treatment measures, he’d, agreed. Like there wasn’t an inkling of emotional response; but he’d disclosed his fears, worries, and helplessness to us in private, it’s just, that he’d, made up his mind, to fight the cancer cells in his, blood.
April 22nd, 2022, Zhong-Ji’s birthday party was held at a certain restaurant, the owner of the restaurant was an old acquaintance of his; Zhong-Ji told me quietly, that the foods were amazing, the prices, good, but, the owner was having a difficult time, keeping the restaurant going. That evening, it was so rare, that his son, Jen-Ning was there too, and, in an instant, the wine glasses were emptied in both their, hands, Zhong-Ji talked on, still quite the, drinker. A few days later came, the news of his blood producing cells stopped working, meaning, he was diagnosed with, leukemia.
He’d immediately gone with the treatment plans the Veteran’s Memorial oncologists had assigned him to, scheduled a bone marrow transplant. Just got out of the hospital on May 14th, by the 17th, he’d gone with his wife, Hsu, became a Buddhist under the Fagu Mountain master. Close to twenty years ago, his own father passed away, he witnessed how the master of Fagu Mountain and all the other Buddhist followers recited the passages of the dead for his own father, he was moved; after that, he’d gone to all the activities of the Buddhist Foundation, no questions asked. It’s just, that under the affinities, he’d never, become, “baptized” as a Buddhist, I’d wondered about that a bit, but, it wasn’t my place to ask. Until the cancer came at him, he’d, told me, that he worried he wasn’t, good enough, that he’d lacked the qualities to become, a Buddhist follower, that’s why he’d, put it off too long. I’d laughed at him in the phone calls, that he’d, worried to much, that becoming a Buddhist was like registering for an account online, to prove oneself as a Buddhist, with only the desires of finding a place to belong, along with seeking out the wisdoms of mercy, and kindness, the path to learning these values, nothing more. So, Zhong-Ji stopped hesitating, told me, that he would, become a follower of, Buddhism!
Zhong-Ji is my younger school mate at World Journalism University, we’d gotten involved in the choir, but not together, I was the leader of the tenth annual choir group, and he, the leader of the, fourteenth, and because we became schoolmates, we’d become, connected, and even if we are separated by the years, we naturally, couldn’t, break the bond, for decades, we’d sung, gathered for meals, and it’d, never stopped.
He’d once helped me a great deal at work, in the T.V. programming, he’d only worked for a short six months, and it was the most leisure of time that’d been, offered to me, working with him, all the nitty gritty of the settings of the shows, the shows themselves, he’d, taken it all on his, shoulders. At the moment that he’d died, he was still, a member of the chairs of the foundation.
Witnessed Everything that’s Bad in the World, the Trials of the People, Had Been Hit by a Serious Illness
Zhong-Ji was more than devoted to his work, passionate too, the interview he’d done of the Tienanmen Incident in Beijing, he’d interviewed the people under the fires, had it not been the station manager Lee, who’d, ordered the crew to immediately return, he would’ve, stayed there. On his way back from Beijing, to Narita, Tokyo, back to Taiwan, I’d gone to pick him up; on the evening, I’d take him to the beer house in Tokyo, he’d asked me to, stay for the night at the hotel, and, told the thrilling moments he’d encountered in Beijing to me in one breath.
There’s that tight ruler that Zhong-Ji measured himself by inside of him, especially on the means of interpersonal relations; he tight-lipped, only told of what he’d observed, nothing that will put a damper on someone else’s, reputations. Once after he’d quit the job of a television station manager, as he’d sorted through his desk, I’d gone with him and his wife to dine, as Zhong-Ji went to the restrooms, Huei-Jen, his wife smiled and told me, that this man she had is really, easygoing, he’d made such a high pay per month, and yet, it was, so easy, for him to, let go of that, without a, second, thought. That evening, Zhong-Ji did not mention anything from work, only comfortably, drank and ate, but, I’d observed, that there was, something, going on, in his mind, that’s, not spoken, aloud.
illustration from UDN.com
During his time at Fuxing Airline, he’d gotten involved in two crashes of the airlines, toward these sorts of bad predicament, most would dodge all they could, but, the owner of the airline asked him how he was to answer the massive media inquiries, Zhong-Ji told him that he will tell the press about the most difficult section, the payments that will be made to the families who’d lost their loved ones in the crash. In the podcast, “Fearing Death, Wanting to Live Longer”, I’d asked Zhong-Ji why was he willing to, get himself, in that, huge, mess? He’d told, that he was once a member of the media press, that it was not possible, to take himself out of something this major; at the same time, he’d not feel proper, to just act as a bystander, as the company he worked for, goes into the line of, fire, wanted to use empathy to face the families, who must feel the panic, the losses of their, loved, ones.
He’d continued, that a lot of the families are already in deep distress, and started cussing him out, to cussing his own families out too, but, Zhong-Ji did NOT act upset one bit, he’d empathized, that had it be his own loved ones who’d died in the crash, could he use an even worse means to cuss out the airline too? And so, he’d flown to China, to help sort out the means of compensation of a mother-daughter pair, the families ordered him to get down on his knees, and had the Taiwanese-Chinese relations agent get down on their knees with him, he’d told me, had he not kneeled, how could the families feel okay, to sit down with him, in a calmer manner, to discuss the compensations with him? By the same, in the mortuary, seeing how the undertaker had, worked their hardest, to patch up the corpse, how could he not kneeled beside the families? That was, such, a huge HIT of sorrows, and loss for them!
A survived young man, was paralyzed from the waist down, it took him a total of five whole times, to get him to see him, and, he was made to stand outside under the scorching sun for over an hour, and, the survivor of the crash mentioned the Buddhist master, Shen-Yen, said that it was because of the words of the master, that’s helped healed him, Zhong-Ji immediately used his cell phone, to find the video of a recording of the Buddhist master, and the man’s attitude changed suddenly. Following that, he’d not only been “graced” by the air-conditioning, the man also, served him some ice tea too, and, at that eighth time, the man finally signed the papers, to get the payments of the damages. What touched Zhong-Ji the most was, the survivor, before he left, asked, “can we become friends?”
the man, apologizing at a press conference for the crash to the public, photo from online
Zhong-Ji, after he witnessed the ups and downs of life, life and death, was hit hard, with his own, cancer. He’d told me peacefully, that based off of the prognosis, he had no more than six years at best, but, in only a year and a half, after he was, injured inside and out, he’d finally, turned in his, timesheet in life, and ran towards the embraces of, Buddha. The moment I’d heard the news of his passing, there was, a scene that’s, frozen, before my eyes,, what his wife, Huei-Jen had, sent to me—his son, Jen-Ning readying to go to the hospital to donate his own marrows to try to save his, father, when Zhong-Ji hugged onto his son, who’s, a head taller than he was tight, with his face, distorted, crying so hard.
And so, this is what this man left behind after he’d died, with his means of treating others kind and gently, and, his actions AND his words, are exactly identical, which was truly rare, especially in today’s, world.
This man had the amazing work ethics, the right way of treating others, and, that’s something, that we can all, learn from!
How you remembered and celebrated this occasion after he was, gone…translated…
Thumbing across “Remembering My Father’s Funeral”, I’d thought of how my good friend shared her own story with me two days ago. The woman was surprised, at how we memorialized the loved ones we’d lost, and was in awe at how we kept the rituals going for close to thirty years.
Recalling back, my father had worked out of home, and come back home for his naps, then suddenly, two coughs, and he’d, fallen down, and not waken up again, the doctor told us he had a myocardial infarction. But he’d been, asymptomatic all this way, this was out of, everybody’s, expectations, and my mother melted down.
To help my mother with her grief, the families gave her an assortment of emotional support, but every time she’d thought of dad, she’d started, tearing up, again.
The following year, as Father’s Day approached, seeing how my mother was missing my father again, and I can’t remember whose idea it was, that we go as a whole family with mom, to visit dad. Dad loved beer, and loved smoking too, my younger brother offered up the cigarette brand he’d loved smoking, while mom prepped a small cake, we set up the laptop, with our father’s photo on it, in the tower of the ashes, we gathered as a family, and talked about the past, remembering our father.
After we were done with the offerings, as usual, my mother used two ten-dollar coins to tell my father everything that’s happened in the family, and asked if he was full? Then, we all, followed suit, whispered to our father, and tossed the coins. And, when we get the affirmations, we’d all smiled; and if we didn’t, then, we would see the tension on the members of the family’s faces, and the rest of us would pray silently, until the individuals get the affirmations. This answering and asking going back and forth, it was originally to help our mother miss our father a bit less, then, it’d turned into that pact we had with him.
After we said goodbye to dad, we’d all gathered to eat out, or gone home, and ordered in, the yearly Father’s Day, with everyone in the family all present, and we’d continued this for thirty years.
I’d once written the thoughts of missing my father in over a dozen articles. But, every time before my father, there are still, so many things I wanted to say to him. I believe, that my father, who’s in heaven, will watch over all of us from up above.
So, this is how you’d grieved the loss of your, loved ones, with your own parent, to keep your mother’s mind off from missing your father too much, and you’d gone as a whole family, to visit your father’s urn, and this became more than just a ritual, but a way for you and your families to stay connected to each other.
Lessons in death and dying, taught to us, by our, pets…translated…
I’d met the cat in this place, very clingy, so I took him, home. Had him, for ten years.
Returning back to this place, the cat’s been gone two years already. But everything is still, the same, the grasses, the trees, green as they ever were, the surface of that lake, very, clear, it was, picturesque. Returned back to when she fell ill, to her death, those days were, too hard to, bear, it felt like someone else had, lived it, not me.
grieving is, ABSOLUTLEY necessary in D-E-A-T-H…illustration found online
What’s left behind, other than the never-ending I love you and I will miss you, were, the two, lines. That was when I held her in my arms, she, convulsed, as she’d, swallowed her, last, breaths, my tears fell, all the way, down, what I was able to see: life in company of, another, life, maturing in, love.
So, this is the lessons, your beloved pet cat left for you, she’d taught you what it’d meant, to love something, so unconditionally, to give her, all of your, heart, to care for her, until, the end, until, death, finally, came, and you will grieve, but after you’d grieved for the loss of her life, when you look back, you will feel, that she’d, made a, huge, impact on your, life, and that should be, more than enough, to help you, left go, of her death…
Just because they’re made of plastic, that does NOT mean that they don’t have, “life”…translated…
1.
From my friend, I’d learned, that not far from where I live, there’s, a wholesales place for the vases, the gardening tools, and the artificial flowers.
I’d selected a sunny weekend morn, come to this larger than what I’d imagined, “Super Floral Market”.
The huge warehouse style wooden structure of the building, with the high ceiling, and the wooden shelves that greeted me as I walked in, had a ton of gardening supplies and horticultural products, in the mildly dimmed lighting, it’d felt, like the storage room of Hogwarts from Harry Potter.
Maybe because it was a morning on the weekends, there’s not that many shoppers.
And, while I was looking around in the artificial flowers section, there was another customer there, she looked, quite young, with a backpack on her back, hair tied back to a ponytail, like me, she was, concentrated, on making her selections.
What’s weird was, she’d stayed put in front of one species of artificial flower, lifted up the stems to look for a long, long, long time. Then, putting it down, carefully, selected another stem, out from, another container, looked at it, examined it, carefully, then, put it back down, again.
She’d repeated this movement several, times on end. In the end, I’d, passed her by, with my own, selections, and wondered to myself: doesn’t she know, that all the plastic flowers are, exactly, the, same?
like the real flowers that would, wither, away! Photo from online
2.
Since I’d started making the floral arrangements using the artificial flowers, I’d come to know, that there were, so many, restrictions and limitations to the use of, artificial flowers in flora arrangements.
For instance, the offerings on the shrines needed to be, fresh flowers. While, in the especially humid environment like Taiwan, the dried flowers are easily, molded or become, taken over by the insects.
And, due to the International Writer Convention in Idaho I attended back in 2016, I had the opportunity to visit the major cities of the U.S. One of the itinerary was visiting the local cemetery in New Orleans.
how everything eventually loses its, colors over time…photo from online
What’s unique of this, collective burial, was the structured set up of the stone coffins, with the orderliness about it, and, there were the marble sculptures of fairies, or angels, to add more poeticism to this, southern-style cemetery.
While I, at a certain tombstone, saw a bundle of plastic flower with the colors faded from the exposures to the sun and the rain.
Is this, unique, to the city of New Orleans in funeral? Using the plastic flowers to commemorate the, dead. I’d started, questioning.
It’s quite rare, to see, the plastic flowers that’s, grown old, and torn apart, faded out in color, by the rain, the wind, and the, sun!
As I left the cemetery, and, set foot back on the, tour bus again, I’d, thought to myself: turns out, the plastic flowers are, living too.
Just because something is made up of plastic, does NOT mean that it does NOT have spirit, everything in this world has a spirit, the rocks, and other, nonliving things too, and, this is what this writer came to understand, on his trip, to the cemetery in, New Orleans on one of his visits to the U.S.
You’d become a fish, in a, fish tank now, with all your family members, “tuning in” to that webcam they’d asked the nurses at the hospital to set up for them, to help them, surveil you, at those, designated, times.
You’d become a fish, in a, fish tank, only, you can’t swim freely like the fishes in the confines of that tank, instead, you’re, STUCK in that bed, with the tubes going in and out of you, that oxygen mask on your nose and, mouth.
what the elder, became…photo from online
You’d become, a fish, in a, fish tank now, only for those who cared about you, to “view”, at those, designated, time slots. And, there’s, nothing you can say, or do, to take the control of your life, back, as you’d become, incapacitated already…
You’d become, a fish, in a, fish tank, and I feel sorry for how your loved ones, treated you like, some rare species of living creature they’re, trying to, keep, alive………
You’d become, a fish, in a, fish tank, as you are, living out, these, final moments, of your, life…………
The end is, near!!! As the moment came to decide, and all of you, her children can’t, reach, that consensus to unplug or to keep her “plugged in”…translated…
That was, a day of chaos, of trials! At the start, my eldest brother posted the message of mom experiencing stomach pains in the Family Group on LINE, in the afternoon, everything started, losing, control—mom was in a coma with a high fever, my eldest brother called up the ambulance, took her to the E.R., the E.R. said her blood pressure’s too low, needed a shot, C.T., the physician diagnosed our mother as shock from sepsis, and multiple organ failure, inflammation of her gall bladder, to the medical professional’s asking us if we want intubation, or use the defibrillator………..as all five of us arrived outside of the I.C.U., we were, faced with the signing of the D.N.R., to NOT have the medical professionals perform C.P.R. on her.
The nurse told us, “you guys should discuss this, these are the measures that the hospital will perform for the emergency resuscitations, there may be intubation, injection of the emergency life-saving medicines, shock, and chest compressions, etc., etc., etc. If you all don’t agree to these measures, then, sign on this piece of paper.”
We all started in discussion. “I think intubation is okay, but no electrodes.”, “Or, no intubation? Mom’s already eighty-eight……….”, the sniffling of voices started up. “Let’s think on it some more………” “Don’t you all want to at least try to save her, once!” the roar came. Followed by the, cries, “How can you say that?”
is this, what you want your loved ones to endure in their final stage of life??? This is what intubation looked like! Photo from online
Ahhhhhhhhhh, I’d come back home to visit with mom a few days ago, we’d laughed, and I’d, done some simple exercises with her too, how did the world turn upside down so fast? We are all, quite aware, that those of us who wanted mom to stay, are because we don’t want to lose her yet, and, those who wanted to sign the do-not-resuscitate, we don’t want to see her suffer any longer.
To keep her alive? Or to let her, go? Of course, I’d wanted to, try to save her, once, at least, and yet, I keep seeing how she’d lost her consciousness, with the mask over her mouth and nose, pumping the oxygen into her, and all those, tubes in her body, the ureter bag, with the machines by her hospital, bed……………..I don’t want mom to be kept alive by the machines, I think, what I want, for her, is for her to die, with as least pains as she possibly can.
And so, some of you guys wanted to save her, and some of you don’t want to see her suffer, and you and your siblings are, deadlocked, and, keeping someone alive like this, is, simply, way too, inhumane, think about it, who would want to live longer, if s/he lost consciousness, and is connected by the tubes, to the, machines, and by keeping your mother alive, you’re, keeping her here physically, and elongating her suffering, and she will be trapped longer, by her, ailing body, and that’s just, not, humane, would YOU want to be kept alive on the machines?
How will I, remember, you…how would you want me to remember you, huh? Would you rather me, recall you as you were to me, of all those years of abuse and neglect you made me endure, and with that, comes with, the HATRED, the ANGER, the RESENTMENT? Or, would you prefer me, to paint everything over, to that, beautiful, brand new, fresh, glow, huh?
But that wouldn’t be, realistic now, would it? Of course N-O-T!
We often, want to, paint the DEAD as someone who’d been, everything to us, when in truth, those who’d died, may not have had that, positive effect, but we still, should NOT, “speak ill of the DEAD”, yet, just like in Julius Caesar, “Everything bad that man did lives, after them” is absolutely, TRUE.
photo from online
So yeah, we’re all, DEADLOCKED (hey, speak for YOURSELF there!), we do NOT know how we’re supposed to, honor the DEAD, when there’s NOTHING honorable about them while they were still, alive, and yet, we are forced to, because, that’s, the norm…
We are supposed to, show up at those, “things”, dressed in black, pay our final respects, put whatever we wanted to put in the coffin of those whom we supposedly, “loved”, when in reality, we just want to, SPIT in the DEAD’s, FACE, and maybe, CUSS the DEAD out.
So in this case, wouldn’t it be better, if we simply just don’t, show up at that final rite of passage of theirs? Yeah, like that rule of thumb: if you don’t got anything nice to say, then, don’t say anything, at, A-L-L, remember???
And so, I won’t, allow you to stay on my mind, because you’re NOT even worthy, a firing off of my SINGLE, NEURON there! And you all are free to call me out for DISRESPECTING the D-E-A-D if you want to.
Mirroring the World 
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