Sunday, March 28, 2010
In death, as in life, my family's scattered to the winds. My dad's there, my mom's over there and John's somewhere out there - I'm still here. There are many angels helping me at this point, one in particular, and they're still holding out for a miracle that John will be found on the Island. Me, not so much. Even as a child, I did not believe in miracles, fairy tales or the Easter Bunny. There was no "Snow White" or "Sleeping Beauty" - reality was my companion. Not trying to evoke any sympathy, these were/are the facts. It's a little hard at this stage of the game to start believing but, then again, we must. So back to reality and...............the Island. John's somewhere out there, this I know. Let's not see the Island as a dumping ground for human garbage because the thought the Island Souls are looked upon in that way is too much for me to bear - my brother is not, was not, "human garbage". The fact remains, however, the Island is a dumping ground of sorts because decade after decade after decade nothing's been done to transform it otherwise. Where are the fountains from which water may flow? Where are the flowers from which a smile may grow? Where are the trees from which shade may be given? Where are the (memorial) benches on which family and friends may sit and grieve? And, where is the chapel in which we must pray? Other than the prisoners who perform the burials, is there a "Man of God" sending these souls off with some kind & spiritual words? Why must the Island be so mysterious, elusive and hidden? What are they hiding? Just thought I'd ask.