Category Archives: Caring for others

In A Rita Perfect World

As uncomplicated as silent companionship

when we listen

to simple playful magic

and the air…

When we listen

to a whale’s blow hole

and the air escaping…

reminding me of

a whale’s blow hole.

Bumped and scuttled between boats

and reminding me of swimming

between fishing lines.

Bumped and scuttled between boats,

submerged in the Saint Lawrence Seaway

between fishing lines,

the world sounds garbled.

Submerged in the Saint Lawrence Seaway,

when we take care of each other,

the world sounds garbled

until something new wants to be born.

When we take care of each other

and remember to play;

something new wants to be born

and laughter becomes the shower for the soul.

Remember to play,

when there are no more right whale deaths,

and laughter becomes the shower for the soul.

In a Rita Perfect World

when there are no more right whale deaths.

NASA will build me a wheelchair

as uncomplicated as silent companionship.

A word from Sir Albussio

This is how it was before my back leg slipped off the bed and was grabbed by the “lift” and it’s a long thin feet. I can no longer trust it, although I see ‘My Lady on Wheels’ using it several times a day.  I suspect it may attack me again. You see how she adores me; I am steadfast and always aware of how she is. Since I remain a gentleman and one committed to routine, I return to her bed every morning to see how she is doing. Once ‘My Lady on Wheels’ is up and seated at her bed and I detect the scent of the daily washing. I understand what has taken place and know that after she is fed, I will also be fed and walked.

For more pictures of me, find me on Instagram https://www.instagram.com/sir_albussio/

Allow me to introduce you to my grandmother.

I think of her often these days. I recently saw a picture of myself that immediately brought her to mind. I am sitting in a wheelchair with my knees resting against each other. I am smiling and enjoying the company around me on a very social evening. What made me think of my grandmother? Even when she was in her 90s and used a wheelchair to get around, she was always ready to enjoy herself. With her pretty, high cheekbones and mischievous eyes, she was patient and clever. She taught me a lot. How to cook a good spaghetti sauce. How to be grateful for the small things in life. How to appreciate poetry.

I knew her for a long time, from the time I was born until she passed away when I was in my 30s. At different stages in my life, I got to know different sides of her. A charming, mischievous and open-minded artist, she worked very hard. She was unassuming, but expected nothing less than excellence. She loved and forgave. As I watched her age and grow more frail, while I grew stronger, I learned that the physical reality of her presence did not reflect the essence of who she was.

I remember when we were living in Ontario in the 1970s, she and my grandfather were taking English as a second language classes. She showed me an essay she had written for the class. She explained she had to choose a topic from a few the teacher had given. She chose to answer the following: “Is it better to have loved and lost, than never have loved at all?” I was young and remember reading the paragraph, but not quite understanding it. She explained to me that it was better to have loved and lost. I remember looking at her wide-eyed, thinking to myself: “Si Nonna, if you write it, then it must be true.” I think back now of all the stories she told me and realize I had absorbed this: there will be pain, frustration and discomfort in life; joy is mine to find.

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