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Monday, July 25, 2016

Long Road Behind

***

Thank You, Dear Readers! Look at that meter spinning away. Each page view is a slap in the face of these unconcerned, quasi-public clods, like Tom Zavitz , who said that this blog about my nephew Charlie "doesn't have a lot of readership".

They just don't get it.

Each page view cuts deeper into their cyber-world like a sandblaster filled with Ones and Zeroes. This happens whether they know it or not. Yet, even as the wondrous nature of Search Engine Optimization and Artificial Intelligence turns their very identities into bot food, they stubbornly refuse to budge over what amounts to a clerical correction.

They just don't get it.

The clumsy compilation prepared by Jo Catania , WMed's lead (like the metal) investigator dismissed our stack of testimonials as being "emotionally driven". As though they could be otherwise... Some were that (although certainly not the one from his pediatrician), but most of them spoke to my nephew Charlie's good nature and happy existence; they are factually driven. The rest of her summary was equally devoid of veracity - by intent, I suppose.

They just don't get it.

False witness has been borne against a child who cannot defend himself. It starts with the lies that comprise Kai Cronin's report, which falsely accuses the victim of a crime. (Suicide is illegal in all 50 states, as is attempted suicide.) When this was made known to the County, it was essentially quashed, buried in an "investigation" that has so far resulted in the generation of absolutely nothing - only the aforementioned summary, which was obviously hastily written, and laden with grammatical and factual errors alike.

They just don't get it.

My sister and I met with a grief counselor last week. We were told that what we went through is the sort of thing that causes PTSD. (Of course. ) Beyond that, the unending struggle to change this wonderful, unlucky kid's official cause of death from Suicide to Accidental has prevented us from even having a grieving process. That's been staved off, and is likely - in part or in whole - still to come, once our mission has finally been completed.

They just don't get it.

This is Day Number Three Hundred and Sixty Four. One year since the last time any of us has had a normal day or a restful night. If I stacked up 364 silver dollars , they'd stand almost as high as Charlie's shoulders. They'd amount to more than a third of his body weight. And the ambulance company would want all of them (plus more) as compensation for their services.

They just don't get it.

"Drown your sorrows in good deeds," our neighbor Jim told us, throughout the 16 weeks that elapsed before Jim went to find Charlie on the Other Side. And we have tried to do that. Charlie's Mom, in her son's name, has given over 700 floral arrangements, in vases, to those who needed their spirits lifted: Veterans. The elderly. Cancer patients. Addicts. Victims of abuse. People who have lost. People who can't lose anymore because they are alone.

They just don't get it.

The name of his nonprofit is Charlie the Merchant.

Why am I telling you all this?

Because, Dear Reader... I think you get it.

pH 7.25.16

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