Picture Yourself in a Boat on a River.
Mark William Darus
Perhaps guilty in the stealthy, cold legal eyes you are under the radar of, though considered insane by the professionals that interviewed you from those very same professionals, you end up locked in stir for life.
Finding you guilty of murder as easily and scientifically as 1 plus 1 equal 12 and one half in a nuclear laboratory, they contradict themselves greatly. Mesmerizing jurors, baffling courtroom witness with the tongue lashings of their legal jargon and outright manipulation of valid words, emotional thoughts even, shared innocently, they extract microbes from molehills mountains become created.
Imagine each and every day is the same as the last...
Yes, most of us feel this way each and everyday of our lives as we either make breakfast while preparing lunches for others, juggling these things while getting ready to deal with what lays ahead of sending the kids, hubby, wife prepared for their day.
You awaken everyday via the time precursors that determine our lives events. Get showered, dressed, eating, forced by the pressures of income and time. You run madly. Marathon seemingly neverending with your day.
Wow, that was an utterly stupid and idiotic thing for me to write. We all have and carry things we don't wish to talk about, yet chop us in two with every encounter.
Wasn't it wrong of me to point this out to you?
Haven't wits-end ever greeted you options when your state of being has been pressed to it's limit? When a point of a 'clicking' in an audible sence rings in our ears and all things rational go sideways as you cross the terminator of light and dark . Madness profound takes hold finding a child dead before you after decades of your relentless care failed long after years predicted for this babe of your to have lived by doctors and clinicians.
Picture yourself alone on a boat on a river, caring for a child with a disease that medical professionals give about 18 years living with the best of care. Family members pitch in like a husband as well as friends to do the best they can, granting you breaks, as you, this childs mother, feels a sinking pain as they help you in your struggle, a pain that will never leave you.
The worst pain imaginable to a parent, that being you will live longer than your child.
Think about this for at a second. Imagine a future where you outlive your children. Sure, some of my readers have had cases if SID's (sudden infant death syndrome), and i am thanking for their sharings on a future entry i am working on.
Take a second and walk with me to a death space.
Repeating days like that of a skipping LP record or bad CD, things play back endlessly as minutes are hours turning days to weeks as months churn to years, decades alter thought in your life as you, THE MOTHER, face all as you welcome their aide, occasionally mustering it up to feed those that help you with a meal as a sense of obligation as they tell you to take a well needed break.
Have you ever been to this place so challenging and, perhaps dark with sadness?
You have a loved one in your charge, your loving care, knowing they are going to die while you are living.
You do what you can for the dying one amongst you holding hopes so high in all futility against medical decision given.
Have you ever had a friend or family mermber dying of cancer before you? Have you seen them in the final stages leaving you as their body fails, crumbling frail fleshy shroud tumbling down as their mind and words greet you as they slowly pass-away on final visits with them? Decaying physical life meets your eyes as they give their final words.
In all honesty, I nearly killed myself when this happened to me. Damn right, at my mothers cold cheeked bedside, I glanced at the opened window in her room and wished myself to be dead.
At that time, I thought me better dead than alive. (Keep in mind. At that time, I had a wife that loved me and two daughters. I wish I could say that mattered looking back over nearly two and a half decades, but it didn't then.) My mind scrambled between my lips moving toward my loving mothers face met a coldness i had never known. As my hands touched her cheeks, my lips met her forehead.
COLD COLD COLD
DEAD DEAD DEAD.
Your hands touching room temp cheeks of the body that was your mother, the smell of anticeptics, fecal matter and a memories touch of Chanel number 5.
A mind runs.
No response from contact below us and our best intentions...
Be honest to yourself as you read, perhaps feel this, within yourself.
I believe the mind fractures at that point, splinters shutting down and runs for a safe place to survive with those that have an emotional base/
Reason is lost, knowing this persons death would come in our lifetime, meaningless by the sheer impact of it actually happening before your very eyes.
You get the news of death, and depending on your level of reasoning and emotion, you process it as you do. Be it your long suffering parents you and family placed in the good hands of the modern Death Farms, where like cattle they are cared for with the right amount of coin until they kick and you get a phone call.
My wishes: This woman sentenced to life get an even break or retrial.\\
I cannot release her name, but given all trial evidence she IS innocent by the clinical definition of insanity. She tested insane.
It is my belief she did not kill her son. I think she found him dead and wished to end her life a\nd calling her husband with her findings.
From that first calling, her honesty lead her down a path to oblivion.
To a life of incarceration .
I am digging in to do what I can.
I believe she did not commit murder.....
My hands still held as i type this. by a family members wishes.
This woman is innocent of murder.
Mark WilliAM Darus.