Author Inspiration and This Week’s Writing Links

Sometimes a dark turn is exactly what’s needed. From Staci Troilo

Staci Troilo

Ciao, amici. I want to apologize in advance for the quote of the week. It’s not strictly writing-related.

Today, the quote’s author is unknown. Which is too bad, as I’d like to thank him or her for the wise words:

At the end of the day, all you need is hope and strength.
Hope that it will get better and strength to hold on until it does.

Last week was rough, with family surgeries (yes, I consider my dogs family, but I mean my father, too) and other issues, some of which made the post last week and some of which didn’t. Because of those difficulties, I was determined to have a better week this week.

I didn’t.

We lost a dear member of the family this week. I should have seen it coming; she’s been in the hospital for months. But reports of her progress came filtered through…

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My Dad’s a Goldfish – For John M

A powerful expression of love and respect from Mary Smith

My Dad Is A Goldfish

A friend has recently gone into a care home. He has a rare form of frontotemporal dementia. It is progressive and irreversible. The brain’s frontal lobe controls planning, judgment, emotional control, behaviour, inhibition and its temporal lobe affects language, along with emotional response and behaviour.

We have been friends for over fifty years – from when he used to walk me home from school carrying my books. We did our homework on the phone. I helped him with English, he helped me with French. We shared so much over those growing up years. Our lives went off in different directions but we always kept the connection – until very recently.

He can no longer take care of himself. He is only sixty three.

I owe him a great deal for the windows onto new worlds he opened for me. I’d like to think I opened some for him, too. This…

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A Friend

An oorah for our Vets

Talkin' to Myself

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We lost a friend today.

 Raised in the rough and tumble side of Philadelphia.

Rejected a football scholarship to become a Marine.

Vietnam.

Awarded a Silver Star.

A hero.

Came home broken.

Hidden wounds.

VA did not acknowledge

Years of addiction and mental anguish past

Finally fully sober

He reenter our lives.

For 20 years

A brother, a friend and a confidant.

Sober and strong.

Then the toll

The payment for bravery

Too late the VA saw their error.

It helped.

Not enough.

He lost his way in a mind ravaged by old violence, old alcohol and old drugs.

All provided by the ones that wouldn’t save him.

Nightmares were his constant companion.

Cancer came calling

He is gone.

He cannot come back

I weep for what could have been.

Oorah, my friend, Oorah.

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Driftwood

Poetry from ‘The Feathered Sleep