Turbo Cancer: Day 130 - October 19, 2022
Goodbye
On this day, last year, my mom wrote:
Miserable day yesterday. So constipated! Took liquid Dulcolax followed by suppository. Had some good results.
Lenore was here. She made dinner. John cleaned up. Kristi in San Francisco. Hope all is going well.
Celebrating dear Penny’s birthday today.
“Everyone else who was ever born into the world came to live; our lord came to die.” - Fulton Sheen.
On this day, last year, while my mom suffered at home, I was in San Francisco, saying goodbye to our boy.
Steven had been her boy as much as he had been mine.
Mikey and I went to the crematorium the day before and picked up the ashes. They came in a black plastic box. I was shocked by the heaviness. The last time I had carried my son, he had been so light.
On the morning of this day, Steven’s lifelong friend, Jonathan, came to our hotel. We took an Uber to the ocean.
I didn’t have any kind of plan. I didn’t have any special words to say, or any ritual to perform. I found myself sitting on some rocks, looking out at the sea, with the heavy plastic box in my lap. To the right of me were two handsome young men, whom I had known from their infancy.
I couldn’t understand how I had gotten there. Steven was my oldest child. He had been such a beautiful boy. He was my first love. He was my shining light. He was my joy. He was my everything.
He had saved me from myself.
He is, and always will be, the great love of my life.
And I lost him.
Years before this day, I lost him. I couldn’t protect him. He was taken by wolves.
There are people in this world who will chew you up and spit you out. There are those who will feed you poison in exchange for money and power. There are deceivers and abusers and pushers and dealers. They all profit from human suffering and pain.
I didn’t protect my son from evil. I didn’t instill in him the strength that was necessary for him to protect himself. I didn’t teach him how to tell the difference between puppies and monsters.
On this day, I said goodbye.
After some time had passed, I climbed down from the rocks. I walked across the sand and into the water. I opened the box and allowed the wind and the waves to take my gorgeous, tragic, boy back to God.
After that, Mikey, Jonathan and I walked. We walked from one beach to another, and then on to another. We saw little towns in the valley and big mansions on the hill.
San Francisco is a strange place. There is stunning natural beauty everywhere you look. It would be difficult to stand in a place like that and not see God.
It is a special place, and the leaders of our technology empire know that.
With all of the money and power they have amassed, the young tech gods have taken over the land at the foot of the mountains. They have found paradise. It is from this awe-inspiring, majestic place that they have discovered the inspiration necessary to run the world with their robots and machines.
San Francisco is a paradise of blue ocean and sky. It is also the place where addicts go to die. When you look away from God’s majesty, and the technology playground, you realize that you are surrounded by human depravity and depression. The streets are lined with cars that have become houses. There are tent cities occupied by strung out, zombified children who wander aimlessly through the streets.
Children whose innocence has been stolen.
Children whose spirit has been broken.
Children who have been separated from God.
Steven was one of those children.
Along the way, he lost himself. Never to be found again.
San Francisco is a dystopian hellscape. Pain and suffering is shrouded in a cloak of manufactured fun and entertainment. The beauty of the pristine land has been marred by the darkness of humanity’s soul.
We have lost ourselves. We have failed to protect our children. We have given ourselves over to tyrants, in exchange for ease and convenience. We have sacrificed the essence of what it means to be human.
Even rats protect their children from predators.
Maybe it will take a bio-weapon, injected into the veins of the masses, for us to wake up. For us to recognize our failure. For us to understand what is most precious.
In 2022, one hundred thousand young Americans lost their lives to Fentanyl overdose. Lining the streets of San Francisco are hundreds of thousands of more tattered souls, slowly committing narcotic-assisted suicide.
Every single one of them came into being filled with life, love and potential.
All over the world, children are used, abused and murdered. Childhood and innocence are under attack. And everyone is quiet. To the society, the hurt and the lost do not matter.
We allow Fentanyl to be carried across our open borders. In San Francisco, the government hands out needles, encouraging the sick and the disenfranchised to die. We pretend to believe that these policies stem from kindness.
Mikey, Jonathan and I walked for hours, each lost in his own thoughts.
🤍 “Maybe it will take a bio-weapon, injected into the veins of the masses, for us to wake up. For us to recognize our failure. For us to understand what is most precious.”
Beautifully written. I have never been to SF so I did not know that it was beautiful. I have only known it to be depraved.
Thank you.