Hard to believe it has been six years since I wrote the Houdini/Ronald McDonald posts. You can find the first in the series here. By and large I have been living life. In fact, most of the last six years are documented within the pages of this site. There has been a lot of advocacy work. Learning new things, adapting our parenting style to our sons needs. But life does move on. Houdini – aka the birth father In the time that has passed, we have lost the birth father. He died alone. There was no obituary. There was no funeral. It is a sad end to a life. Every life deserves to be celebrated. He was such a “bad” man that no one in the family even knew he died. He has been gone almost 18 months now, and I realize that I have no feelings one way or
Unfinished quilt tops. Loose fabric, pieced together. seams resewn to strengthen the final product. adjustments, another persons eye to style and color. A work in progress. I strive to save the lovingly hand stitched aspect of the quilt top while ensuring it won’t fall apart upon the first washing.Life lessons. Spools of thread. Simple things the second. Complex thoughts on the first. I was thinking about a sewing project I have been trying to find time to work on. I am finishing a quilt. I purchased an unfinished quilt top at auction and am working to finish. Just haven’t been able to make time to sit down and tackle it. Not to mention the stack of patching, hemming and repairs that are sitting in my sewing area. In thinking about the similarities between the spool of thread on my sewing machines, and David’s care I am struck by one thing.
It’s a sad reality. Our son David is mentally ill. I know it’s been a while since I last posted. So much has happened. On Feb 3, as I was driving into the city for a medical appointment, I received a call from the facility where David was. “If you don’t come and get him by 1pm, you will be charged with abandonment.” said the Clinical Director. I tried to explain that I was on my way to a medical appointment, 100 miles south of the facility. I explained that I had made arrangements to pick him up at 4pm. Not good enough. I was given the ultimatum, either pick up your son by 1pm, or be charged. As a result, I cancelled my appointment, turned around and went to pick him up. You see, he is well. Or so they believed. That’s why his peers want to kill him.