Slowing Down in the Final Lap.

"Man's broken down on the slip road, and it's a hard shoulder to cry on." (Mark Knoffler).

I've got a studio photo of my Mum and Dad in their early twenties - beauty in sepia tones.
My father is smooth faced and handsome, his thick black hair brushed back, his piercing blue eyes challenging the photographer, his lips parted in a nascent smile.
He's wearing a dark, broad-lapelled suit coat, and a broad, patterned tie.

My mother, beautiful in her contentment, her life ordained, is at peace with the future, her beauty undiminished by her plain woollen vest and coat.

They married in 1939, my mother a nurse, my father an Xray technician.
At the outbreak of World War II in that same year, my father's enlistment application was rejected on the grounds of his "Essential Service" occupation.


I suppose that it is inevitable that the Great Card Marker In The Sky stuffs it up every now and then, and a few slip through their lives unscathed.
My mum and dad kept a low profile, living good, generous, happy peaceful lives, unnoticed by the GCMITS until very late in the show, when, being the vindictive bastard that he is, he added a penalty kick to a free kick, firstly taking my mother's mind away, and then doing likewise to my father.

It is important to understand that this is indeed a grievous punishment.
To take away someone's mind, to erase someone's memories, is a penalty which should be only applied to the most irredeemably evil criminal.
If a high court judge were to sentence a serial child rapist/murderer to such a punishment, society would be outraged.

But apparently the GCM thinks it's OK for someone who has lived a kind, compassionate, generous, loving life.
Alzheimer Disease for one, and for a bit of variety, multi-infarct dementia for the other.
Lives to be lived in confusion, loneliness and terror. 

                                              ***********   
              
Well fuck you, GCM! Come and get me, you bastard!
I refuse to live a life where fairness, compassion and justice don't apply.
Take away my intellect, turn me into a facsimile, book me in to the shittiest nursing home you can find.


I might loose my mind, but I might find my mum and dad.