When I got to East Texas, a long desperate drive after a tolerable flight..
I knew I was walking into hell, at the Tyler Emergency Center.
This is another story, but I walked into hell, fully armed by our father, and ready for battle.
I can't imagine what kind of knuckle-dragging hell they took our dad into, in Palestine Regional, where they refused to give up his personal effects until I had made contact with the regional director, and made sure they knew that I had done that.
The money in my dead father's wallet, was bait enough, to make staff lie.
It wasn't a lot of money, not over three digits.
They were sure that a few lies and fibs, would pay off for them.
It took conversations, and texts with their Director, for me to walk in and get my father's effects.
As would any sentient, emotional person, I fell apart completely upon laying my hands on the belt, wallet, glasses and familiar scent and things of my paternal.. the staff had the grace to do the same.
I had the presence of mind to call into consciousness for them, my father's presence, hold my hand up to their startled eyes, and say, yes, he is here, and you must feel him.
Of course I do, because the engrams of our loved ones are engraved upon our hearts.
Because we, the living, do not know.
But we, the living, must hold those in sacred trust to the dying, to their trust.
What would you steal from the dying man, or his children?
What kind of worthless protoplasm are you, to try to do this?
If you will, will you at least submit to target practice?
Because you are exactly the kind of worthless mutherfucker I would like to cut into slabs.
Come over here, and stand still for a minute..