Frank is a blogger (Out of the Ashes) who writes now and again. He lives here in the area. Frank sounds a lot older than I, though only 52. He’s deeply religious, I’m not. He’s close to his parents and siblings, I’m not. We couldn’t be on most opposite ends of the pole in terms of our lives. Frank probably doesn’t read this blog, but he has link from me anyways. Frank offers something, prospective.
Frank’s father is dying and Frank is the primary care giver, his mother recently passed away. Frank is surrounded by friends, yet Frank sounds scared and alone a bit. Sorry Frank, I hope happiness returns to you soon.
Over here it’s Comedy Central. I have an opinion about virtually everything. A barbed comment on whatever is irritating me today. Raining on the poor homos and the world around me. But perhaps I am a miserable old sod, perhaps even a softy. I feel for Frank.
Collect memories, worship the good times, enjoy the pleasure of doing nothing, for we all ultimately get to where Frank’s dad is at. I just hope to have a similar caregiver.
TC is fully blown Siberian Snow Tiger, he scampers around, the dark Toronto cold, yelping at me. But he want to collect memories as well. I need to get on the ball and be part of the process. For these are the good times.