Some people never get old men are always the children they were when mom and dad named them Ronald; friends and brothers and sisters who grew to know him with love in their heart changed the nane to “Ronny.’ Now in early eighties still that boy.
As I sit here after reading two chapters of the Maze runner my emotions are at hand I often dhare the bit of food I have with him.His wife died years ago. I use to not know his name till today. His name didn’t matter see sharing what Inhave is my gift.Sharings who I am words lies tainted my good nane making my mom have to be forced to live with a monster.
Little Ronnie tells me always as he pats is stomach says I’ll make him fat as he puts out his cigarette telling me he and his sister have cancer.Ronny says they both will have surgery in the next few weeks.
Some M.D.’s fancy themselves gods and refuse to operate on older people. That’s wrong whose to tell how old a person will live.Others say let them die they have no qualiy of life. Poverty is no live that’s one of the reasons I write.
He walks all the time. He seems like a good guy my dad and him would more then likely be as thick as theives.
I will do the positive thinking I can for their recovery. Right there with wanting back in my mom’s life hate and lies removed me.
I feel so sorry for Ronnie and his sister I lost three members of my family to cancer. Death is easier then being thrown away by hate from lies because families after lied about is like without a country or a smile or a hug.
Death is just going through a door way. As long as remembered that person lives on. Empty and alone I exist that’s it.
