Portrait of a Morbid Optimist
“I’m in trouble,” yells out Dad in the night.
“You hit the ceiling,” he says as I climb back into the cot beside him in the Palliative Care Unit. 571 more words
3 months ago
Love is what you’ve been through with somebody. ~James Thurber, quoted in Life magazine, 1960
“Please call me when you can,” texts Mum on Valentine’s Day. 134 more words
3 months, 1 week ago
“Happy birthday to me,” sings Dad, a cardboard makeshift bowl of cake and ice cream in hand as he sits lopsided, battered and bruised in the emergency room. 1,559 more words
‘I wrote a letter to the Guardian,’ says Mum.
The English paper requests letters from their readers for a ‘What I am Really Thinking’ column. 246 more words
4 months, 1 week ago
‘PANIC PANIC’ is the subject line to Mum’s email.
Her 80th birthday party is nigh. The pressure is on.
‘Call me when you can,’ she texts me, ‘I need to calm down.’ 818 more words
5 months, 1 week ago
Dad and I share a bottle of wine. He lifts his glass.
‘Here’s to love, life and laughter. I’ll be true as long as you, but not a moment after.’ 114 more words
8 months, 1 week ago
‘I love the video you posted on Facebook of that black woman,’ says Mum.
Not sure which video she’s referring to, Mum pulls out her iPad, then and there, wanting to watch it again, this time with me. 292 more words
9 months, 1 week ago