Retiring From Web Career

Today I celebrate the formal decision to retire from my career in Web development, education, outreach, advocacy and any other role related to the Web in a public capacity.

Next up: Living with and for humans rather than with and for human ideals.

I will continue to use the World Wide Web as a tool for outreach, but as of today, I am not just tired, but finally, finally accepting that it’s time to retire from a career that was truly mind-blowing. As in, it blew MY mind!

Upcoming projects include:

  • “FOR THE GRACE” – A documentary series of conversations with diverse sections of human society to break down barriers of misunderstanding and demystify truths about how people end up on a given path.
  • “THROUGH THE CRACKS” – A first-focus in the proposed FOR THE GRACE documentary focusing on the homeless in the USA.

My current role is to take care of my medical health, to support my family here in Nevada. I will be helping to caregive along with my stepfather my beloved Mother as well as two personal friends who are going through very difficult times and we are healing each other in real-time rather than the amorphous Web.

As I work through the inevitable horrific stacks of paperwork and documents that come along with disability, economic failure, loss of a spouse along with mortal illness in myself and close family and friends, there is an opportunity for me to take advantage of the V.A. programs if they continue to exist by the time the paperwork is in to return to school, where I intend to finish my Ph.D. in Media and its impact on Society, which is where I left off in my studies. This time, however, the focus puts society rather than media first, which was not the way I approached it in earlier academic work.

What I will or won’t accomplish is not the relevant point, what is relevant is that it is clear that my time as the Web’s “Fairy Godmother” is over, and I am very happy to step out of that environment and into one where human beings interact in a much fuller way with one another.

May you all find your way to live long and prosper. I am grateful to the hearts and minds who have allowed me to live, despite its difficulty, an absolutely and utterly extraordinary career experience.

With all my love and forever gratitude, Molly

The DIEt: The No Fail 100% Forever Way to Reach Your Dream Weight!

Welcome! Today we want to share a fabulous weight loss program that is 100% guaranteed to help you lose that weight once and forever! Yes, this is the one you’ve heard about – it uses several medications that are FDA approved but have proven to be not only effective in their initial purpose, but as an amazing melter of that extra fatty fat fat!

This is Molly E. Holzschlag, recognized as one of the most influential voices in the World Wide Web’s first 25 years of existence. Her 35 books, countless courses, trainings, talks, articles, videos and other outreach and education advocacy on behalf of this emerging and world-changing teMols at 225 lbschnology helped spark an entire industry, but as you can see, she was not taking very good care of her health and weight as she traveled the world to speak and educate tens of thousands – possibly millions of people – for no profit or self-gain. In this photo,  taken while presenting to graduate students at the University of Georgia, her weight is at her lifetime highest, 230 pounds.

What’s the catch? There’s always a catch. We know it, and you  know it. So let’s get the bad news done with first and then get down to the amazing results. This is not a cheap program as the medications used are extremely specialized and rely on gene therapy – a relatively new approach to the treatment of many medical conditions. That’s it! And we do offer a variety of assistance programs, including a specialty scholarship fund (for folks interested in donating to the scholarship to help offset cost of treatment, see sidebar for donation options).

Okay, so that’s the bad news. NOW we can get to the amazing news! This medical combination, along with a proprietary nutritional supplementation has worked for every single person who has adhered strictly to the rules of the DIEt! That’s correct – every single person on this program has lost weight and that’s not all! Not only will you see results like Molly did, as shown here in present day at 130 pounds – a total of 105 pounds of weight loss. Molly joked with us at our last appointment, remarking “105 pounds? That’s a WHOLE PERSON! Does this mean I’m half the gal I used to be?”

Here are the results. From a US women’s size 18w to a size 6 petite, Molly colored her hair pink and sassy for her “after” pic, writing “I never thought I’d look like this! All I can say is WOW!”

molly photo after weight loss of over 100 pounds

THE BEST PART? Once you complete the program, you will never have to face weight gain again, and be free to eat what you want, when you want and as much of you want for life. That’s right! I know, we couldn’t believe it either but take a look at this incredible result after going through our program! That 235 pound woman now is looking gorgeous at a weight she said she has not been as low as since childhood: 130 pounds. From a US size 18w to a size 6 petite – utterly amazing results – 105 pounds, gone. Forever!

[Disclaimer: The DIEt is not for anyone who is healthy. You must first have a terminal illness to qualify for treatment. And, while costly, and you’ll likely die somewhere along the way, you’re gonna look FABULOUS for that open casket of which you long have dreamed. Oh, also, this entire page, while not untrue, comes with a bit of a warning – don’t ever let anyone do this to you. If you’re still being blasted at 150 at the same dosages at 235 pounds, you will die. Thank you, and we welcome you to the club!]

 

Social Media, You and I Need to Talk

Hey folks – no, I haven’t destroyed social media accounts but I am leaving them for now. What I am doing is changing the constant suffering and negativity that my life issues as well as my outrage at the passivity of people, nations, organizations and oh just say about everyone to acknowledge we are in a time of great distress and no one “out there” is going to save us have been causing. Social media is not helping, at least not me.
People are. Friends are. Social Media? Not of itself.

I am no longer interested in the Web as a platform for humanity in the form it is. It is now just another tool and I will no longer fight for that which did not fight for me.

No more one way streets in my life.

That said, I do not wish to, from this point forward, ever be seen as a source of information or perspective for anyone. For that reason, I am not going to be posting on social media for at least a duration of 3 months if not longer. I will, however, continue to be open to any and all visitors who would like to come to my pad and hang out – that would be on my blog, http://molly.com/ which I left when I became Social Network-ized like everyone else. I abandoned long form, and it worked really well for a really long time.

Now, life is changed for me, I’m changed, you’re changed, and so is our Web and the world. No matter your policy positions, change is factual, measurable, empirical physical law and that alone cannot be challenged.

Thank you for listening for years of both the good and the bad. Thank you for being there or not, for loving me, for not loving me, for welcoming me, for abandoning me, for every single thing you did or did not do for who I am today is all a part of that and I like her.

I finally like who I am once I take the yoke of feeling responsible for the shit in this world off my neck for a change! I see our world’s so-called leaders far sicker than any sick I could ever come up with on my own. There’s something comfortingly odd knowing that people far more “successful” than I economically or in terms of notability for work than I could ever even imagine being at my most destructive.

These are largely heinous people with a lot of power playing with humanity as if we didn’t have individuality or purpose. Me? Not heinous. A tough life, a desire to do good, to fix the unfixable and to more than anything be loved and liked and wanted because I was not particularly given those messages in the long majority of my personal life. Some friendships, early days of the Web when we were younger, especially pre 9/11.

That attack was also a demarcation point where my own mental health declined. A significant amount of hope I’d left for humanity in 2001 and in that I include the intrusion of the U.S. into regions of the world where we simply do not belong yet appointed ourselves the world’s military force.
Then bad romantic choices and a growing reliance on alcohol (which was never in my playbook, and will never be again) turned into such a sad and long downfall I am ashamed of myself for not stopping that behavior despite knowing that all the while I was trying to annihilate so much emotional and physical pain I just made everything worse.

Nevertheless, I am still here, and I healed those wounds enough to where I ultimately married my wonderful husband where I found protection and complete love NO MATTER WHAT (one of our “mottos”) – Even in our less than 2 year marriage before he passed (long friendship 30 years!) I was made me a far better person because he was a truly great human being, the best I have ever, ever known.

There, I got more lucky than anyone I know. Who gets that? Even when short, even when so sad toward the end, the end was not sad at all, but perhaps the culmination of our 30 years of love as I had to grow to become open to that level of human self-sacrifice and transcendent grace. Who better than a man who both took life and saved it to teach a lesson like that to a stubborn minded girl like me? They say nice guys finish last. He got the girl he knew I was that I didn’t know I was and I learned who I really am. THAT is pretty awesome, huh? There is so much grief in its ending, yet I have great joy knowing there are happy endings in this life.

Negative though I might have been, bitter, angry, self-destructive and miserable, every single one of those issues was justifiable and very bad shit did go down that is not down to me. I’m over here taking my responsibility and part of that is stepping out of the role of any persona of leadership. The rest I leave to those individuals to manage and work out, but I will say this much: If you are reading this and you dislike or disrespect my humanity, stop following, please! It’s not fair to me or you.

So, I will be closing all social media accounts related to my professional life before for at least 3 months. If you’d like to drop in for a chat, c’mon by my domain. There’s virtual coffee, tea and my girl next door works at Crispy Creme – one at a Las Vegas upscale strip hotel eatery – where they throw out more donuts a day than she can bring home to feed our neighborhood’s many homeless. So we’ll sweeten the virtual buffet up a bit.

My world is now far more about living life with people than for ideals. This is a joy, and where I am supposed to be. Oh, the relief I have felt in the last days being offline! As those horrible hours, months years of dark in myself, in your lives, in this world played out I naturally reflected that. That’s what empathy is, and I am deeply empathetic. In fact, I don’t know how NOT to internalize pain and passion for people, ideas and love nor do I care to learn how to stop feeling as deeply as I do.

And yes without question, I do get very scary when that processing gets dark – and it is external with me – and that’s rough for others to manage and it is not nor should ever be placed on you. So yes, I didn’t believe the power of my own words or “influence” but that, as so astutely albeit uneasy way that came to me, is not a reason to toss my attitudes to audiences that associated my name with public influence. That IS on me, and this is me taking responsibility for exactly that mis-step.

This way, sympathetic people can engage without it upsetting anyone, empathetic folks can come to Mols on their own terms, and I am not seen as a “voice” or a “persona” much less anything more than exactly what I am which is a human being.

I welcome your thoughts, as always, and hope you will stop by and see me at “my place” on the World Wide Web, where “open” was a dream I had for a platform that didn’t manifest, but is not a reason for me to become closed. It does mean a shift in role, accountability and for whom I speak.

I speak for myself.

Only for myself.

For few or none speak up for me, except TO me. Not the same. At all. Although I appreciate both very much when someone does. The force and passion of my nature does bely my fragility both physically and emotionally and if that’s controllable or changeable, I have not yet found the way to do it successfully and make myself less sensitive to the pain of others, the importance of visions and ideas, the ethical aspect of my nature that refuses to rest and must question every act iteratively sometimes for decades, sometimes for mere seconds, until a solution emerges that I can identify and work with.

I will speak with others, and I will help others speak, but I will not speak for any company, organization or group as a leader or thinker or innovator or creator of anything but that which is of me and not distracted or disrupted by the dissonance of the Social Media world.

I didn’t set out to do these things. I did them because the idea of a global network that is accessible, affordable/free and transcendent of corporate and governmental ownership is a dream I will always believe in as being a necessary part of human evolution and not devolution.

In the word’s of one of my current heroes the fearless, angry, possibly over-the-edge (and I like it) and very, very funny Keith Olbermann:
“RESIST!

PEACE!”

FOX News Takes the L FTW!

Firing Bill O’Reilly is the happiest news I’ve heard since prior to Obama being elected president the first time. This, if we last long enough in the interim, may be a sign of firings to come. And I don’t mean missiles, or misdirection on huge bombs while a payload free “non” nuclear test goes on without anyone paying attention in the Nevada desert. But no one reports on that. Biz as usual.

Hey, conspiracy theories aside, the fact is we have a long history of say, even the CIA not admitting that Area 51 (and that’s one of many on that base, a mere 65 miles out of Las Vegas) even existed until 2005! Whose to say the next one isn’t deployed armed? Or worse? This regime, and I believe Bill O’Reilly is one of the voices that fueled this fiery hell in which we have found the USA and the world is out to annihilate as many people not like themselves as possible. Of course, once they’re the only ones left, they’ll be figuring out other ways to lessen each other cuz someone’s gotta scrub those gold toilets.

I’d love to get Penn and Teller to debunk a few of those magic tricks! Look over here “great big bomb kills a few in a show of nonsensical force while the other hand drops a real nuclear bomb on its own people.”

If you hadn’t heard about it, you can read up on it using your own source of Fake News. In the meantime, I just about peed my girly panties listening to Colbert (and Colbert) have a hella good time with his/their loving farewell to this pile of human garbage I’ve had shoved in my face in every airport, restaurant, doctors office and waiting room with a TV for the past 15 years.

Fox News, you may just have one bone of journalistic ethics actually intact. Albeit a small and likely we can survive just fine without it bone, but maybe there is one. And that to me smells a little like less like the foul waste of hatred and ridicule to come from that man’s horrid face and disrupted mind and a little more like at least there IS a line. Whether it applies to the current President Lying to State (or is that for, or on, or perhaps in…) is another story for later. Right now, I’m sucking all the sugar outta this sweet moment I can.

Enjoy!

Hemato-Poesy

Massive hematoma reexamined as art not disease

Blood disorder bone and marrow
fickle fallow depressed me once
Now I know it’s just a poem
Artist or deity or random masterpiece
Drawn from my blood and born in my bone.

I will be your canvas, paint me always let me be
these changing colors of death as beauty.

Kafka the Crow and a Pink Pussy Hat

Pink pussy hats don’t purr they have no need to please you. Pussy exists for the sake of itself – and will attribute lack of success to the failure of a corpse to decay.

Kafka means crow, did you know? There was a dream she had, a place to go, the crow was enormous, named her Black Goliath. (Who bit back later, but a good point demands to be driven home).

She sharpened her needle on her dead man’s Katana while thinking about Habanero peppers combined with Guava. Hey there sweet-hot, you dress in a sauce with a well made broth and a base of marrow ever notice how sweet? That marrow be better than the meat.

Her mother got lamb chops, grill them for dinner. She’d suck out the marrow with vigor and joy. The other thought it was gross until she tasted it once, and then she too, became hooked:

Ah, dat sweet and nasty bone marrow junk.

Kafka means crow and she now dreams in polaroid Tattoo.

Full sleeve (for real!) before they were cool nail-bit Goth blood drops n’ so forth. Black Goliath biting her bones as the needle goes in and the ink stains the skin ah shit she hit it too hard – damn girl get me dat phone…

Yo, yo – need an ambulance in here, got bit by this bird, name’s Kafka you see he’s this Crow from Prague – where’s Prague you ask? Dude, I don’t fuckin know – somewhere in that Europe Commie block? Red bastards be born every day, aight?

And one orange bastard shits on our throne where his fat orange ass never belonged.

The needle slips and pierces her bone. The taste of sweet marrow reminds that there was once a home. Get your hands off her now, your eyes off her Wow or she will slice her arms and beat with fists before a slice to her face bleeds all over the place – you will eventually come to see:

Don’t want that attention or to lead a misdirection
Just wants a corner, much like that Jack told her such lies and still she bought them full retail every. single. damned. time.

She’s easy aight? But not like Granny’s butter. She don’t spread or take up much space despite projecting a far larger face – it’s an act a persona it’s nothing true to a soul – She made up a story to fool you all with only 1 year to plan but more than 50 long years to fall.

The laughs on YOU bugaboo, the needle pierces her skin and her vein collapses in oh yeah oh yeah how she bleeds from her eyes and now into her brain, and up in an airplane she got oxygen robbing Filgrastim throbbing “mild” aches and pains what crap the shit broke her into 42 halves.

And the judge is an ass.
And the father insane.
The mother disrupted
Don’t think that leaves a child corrupted? Let Kafka explain:

She listened to the pussy and when it purred these words, shocked her deeply as to what it was she heard:

“Full finger up you baby, all the way, no hesitation, no maybe. I did it. I did it. I don’t know why. I’m not even sorry, and I don’t know how to cry.”

It’s a strange compulsion and weirder confession to tell a traumatized child such a fucked up act what would you do shrug it off? Yeah, you would, and die in silence weak ass bitch. Not that child, no, she too damned wild fight back bite back but only herself though once in a corner with Jack she’s gone

How well fragility endures such dark time to also come to find the intimate heart the most private part was invaded before 3 months of age.

What would you say about that, eh eh? Raped by a finger longer fatter bigger than baby girl slash?

It don’t bounce back.

Oh! I got distracted – it happens now more with age. So Kafka the Crow got fat by the way, he turned into a drinker, lost all his fluff, got down on his luck, moved to Vegas…

Kafka the crow then killed a duck. Don’t know her name but Kafka, at that point out of its bird brain, didn’t give a single fuck. Roasted her in the radiation still lingering today in the Mojave where the fallout will stay, you didn’t know? Cuz no one did say, wasn’t worthy of news that day.

Ah fuck, who cares, we already Dead Walking there’s even a show – we’re famous now, but only on HBO. Pay to play, pay to pray, pay to live and pay to die, no Amen Sista gonna sprout wings and fly.

Kafka and she, will forever be, partying down in hell,
sucking marrow from the devil’s own claw with gumption and glee.

Journey To Sinaloa

close up of art with red tinting from cover of book

When in the heat I starved for love,
instead I ate plantains.
I learned that love
is not a thing of sex between us. It is
the smiling boy with sweet mango juice
dripping from his innocent chin it is his
his laughing sister running on
the railroad tracks beside.

The plantains were stripped
of their green and red skin. We
put them in a frying pan on the naked beach
and watched the butter burn them brown.
I put one in my mouth too hot and burned
my tongue
a taste of all things not yet known to me.

Various dead cattle were strewn on the tracks.
Mark was horrified at their starvation
and looked away. I saw their multi-colored coats
as prophecy, and behind them
the gravel mountains a calling of God. Oh, this
is a tilted land –
if I love it will it disappear?

I drink a too-sweet Coca-Cola and see the
carcass of a feline on a street in Hermosillo.
I am fascinated by what parts of her flesh
have fouled, and where the flies still eat
Mark turns his head. He does not want
to know,
not then, not any time,
that here is the center of the world. This is
our future, to lie beside this road, to die
in the screaming streets of Mexico
beneath revolutionary slogans
painted on the walls.

Don’t hide beneath me. I desire you no longer
if you do not face truth. Love is truth,
and staring at death. Love is knowing these green mountains
and the blue infinity of this sky. Love
is the plantain burning my face to
remind me that
I am.

Love is a toothless woman begging
with scarred, brown hands. Love is
the abuela washing my hair. Love is
not you.

You are not the center of the world.

Love is the giving of this fruit. Love
is the tasting of this fruit. Love is the staying
in the center in the moment in forever
not not not
looking away
no matter how horrid and certainly
not ever how beautiful.

When in this journey I hungered for God,
instead I counted my fingers.
I learned that God is not a thing of verity between us.
God is the ancient woman collecting pesos for prayers
God is her greedy son watching.

My fingers were raw and stained with nicotine. I put
them in the ancient woman’s hands and watched
our colors clash and blend. She grasped me in a wretched
but solid way –
a touch of things not known yet to me.

Children ran wild about the bus station. Mark was
horrified at their wanting and looked away. I saw their
multi-colored faces as prophecy, and behind them the
lake of scorpions the reflection of the universe.
Oh, this is a tilted land –
if I put it to my lips, will I disappear?

I drink a bitter Corona and see a scorpion boldly walking
across the filthy floor. Mark turns his head.
He does not want to know
not then, not any time
that this is the center of the world. This scorpion is
our future, tenacious against throngs of humanity,
stinging when necessary and sometimes not,
hiding in the dry bed of a Sonoran lake
beneath green and yellow mountains that look false.

Don’t hide beneath me. I will desire you no longer
if you will not face truth. Truth is God and staring
at chaos. God is knowing these green mountains
and the white nothingness of life. God is this woman
squeezing my hand to remind me that
I am.

God is toothless, begging, starving and sad. God is
a fiction to read and remember. God is not you.

You are not the center of the world.

God is the giving of this fruit, god is the tasting
of this fruit. God is
staying in the moment in the center of forever
and not not not
looking away
no matter how horrid and certainly not ever
how beautiful.

When in motion I hungered for stability, instead
I stood between the cars of the train.
I learned that stability is not a thing of stasis between us
it is the swaying of these old, green trains it is
the hoards of people inside and out.

The train was stopped by a bomb. The bomb left the
train track before us twisted and consuming. I left the train to
look and burned my eyes –
a vision of all things not yet known to me.

Many people were teeming in the ditch below the tracks.
Mark was horrified at their confusion and looked away.
I saw their caged and multi-colored parrots as prophecy,
and behind them the burning pyre a calling forth of destiny.
Oh, this is a tilted land.
If I push it, will it disappear?

I drink bottled water and see a train filled with revolutionaries
pass on the parallel track. I am drawn to their grim faces, their
guns, their unbelievable youth. Mark turns his head. He
does not want to know, not then, not any time
that this is the center of the world. This is our future,
these men and guns, the bombing of a train track near
Guaymas is the tale of our tomorrow.

Don’t hide beneath me. I will desire you no longer if you
will not face what is clear. Stability is staring at change
and drawing it to you instead of away. Stability is
these green mountains and the orange heat of this fire.
Stability is the fact of revolution burning in my mind
to remind me that
I am.

Stability is the ancient train carrying us slowly
through Mexico. Stability is not you.

You are not the center of the world.

Stability is the giving of this fruit. Stability is the tasting
of this fruit. Stability is staying
in forever in the center in the moment and
not not not
looking away, no matter how horrid and certainly
not ever how beautiful.

When exhausted I reached for sleep, instead I walked the jungle.
I learned that sleep is not a thing of power between us.
It is the peace in the laughter of bullfrogs in Sufragio. It is a
quiet conversation in Spanish with a kind and handsome man.

The jungle was really a sub-tropical oasis. I found it by accident
when the train was derailed. I bought cigarettes and lemonade
from an eight year old boy. I drank the lemonade made from
sixty lemons –
the scent of all things not known yet to me.

People came out of the hot train and stripped to their underwear.
Mark was embarrassed at their humanity and looked away. I saw
our multi-colored bodies as prophecy, and beneath
the viejas hands
washing my hair the power of God. Oh this is a tilted land.
If I breath it, will it disappear?

I let the vieja wash my hair and cool me with the water. I hear the
singing of men and am fascinating by the closeness
of these people.
Mark turns his head. He does not, cannot know
not then, not any time
that this is the center of the world. This is our future, this dancing
at the side of a derailed train, this human touching, this living in
the moment of the hour of the day by the banana trees and
bullfrogs.

Don’t hide beneath me. I desire you no longer because you do not
face
what is real. Sleep is trust and knowing the rhythm of time. Sleep is
this lush crevasse in a wider, desolate land. Sleep is the rocking of
old women and babies. Sleep is not you.

You are not the center of the world.

Real is the giving of this fruite. Real is the tasting of this fruit.
Real is staying in
the center
the moment
forever
and not ever looking away, not matter how horrid
and certainly, certainly

Not ever how beautiful.


Molly E. Holzschlag, written in 1983, first published in the chapbook “Looking for God in a Bowl of Fruit” Copyright 1995. Independent poetry series featuring socially aware writers. All chapbooks are hand-crafted, use original artwork, Kenaf and recycled papers. From Stained Glass Press, Concord, North Carolina, USA.

To My Ray

molly and ray in a strong embrace

My beloved husband passed away peacefully at the Veteran’s Home in Tucson, Arizona.
He served as a United States Navy Corpsman in the Vietnam war. For those unaware, they are often referred to as “Doc” because they are specifically trained in combat and field medicine, safety and battle injury on front lines with the U.S. Marines.

He also served on the Navy ship the USS Benner which on 26 February 1967 endured 116 enemy rounds of fire and was disabled twice before reaching safety.

He was awarded the Vietnam Campaign Medal, A First-Award National Defense Medal, Vietnam Service Medal, A Silver Star, Two Bronze Stars and Meritorious Unit Commendations.

Over time he became 100% Combat-disabled due to PTSD and Agent Orange exposure. He continued to work as a Physician’s Assistant and rural outreach “Doc” for rural poor and First Nation individuals, earning chickens and eggs and friends along the way.

He became involved with the incredible, controversial and next-in-line for sainthood Dorothy Day and worked with her and others in social justice through the Catholic Worker Movement. He walked the homeless camps in Niagara Falls, New York in the freezing winters with food, blankets, coffee and love.

While he himself was not religious per se, he practiced a combination of his Hopi and Comanche spirituality and what he learned later about Eastern ideologies such as Taoism and Buddhism in his journeys to the many countries in that region.

He never asked for a thing for himself. He was the most generous human I have ever known and truly cared for all people, even when greatly harmed by brothers in arms. He prevented rapes, assaults and treated non-combatant local citizens in Vietnam and Cambodia. He took an oath to protect our nation, and he also took one to protect lives. He lived up to and beyond both.

He was also very interested in Martial Arts, sword and knife fighting, strength building, shiatsu and bodywork. He was an artist, guitar player, singer, songwriter, poet, storyteller and only ever unleashed his deadly warrior spirit in combat or when someone he loved or was defending against harm was threatened. Never for himself. Only on behalf of others.

For several nights before he died, he told me of a dream: We are dancing on a beach, my hair is long and flowing, our kitty honey is with us floating along in an upside down pith helmet enjoying the slow ebb and flow of the passing tides.

This recurred in slight variations. Then on my birthday during Physical Therapy, he stood up for the first time in 20 years as a birthday present for my 54th, January 25th of this year in a specialized rehabilitation device. He sent me a picture. He stood for me.

He would not let go of life until I, the hospice worker and non-denominational chaplain softly spoke with him at around 10 pm. We repeated together how his Omaw (his grandmother who raised him), how I, how our kitty and all the people whom he ever touched in kindness and healing honor and love him and he will never be alone.

I told him he is with us always and that it was time for him to rest. At first he showed signs of agitation but after hearing me repeat my words, he became calm again, re-entered a semi-comatose state and died peacefully without further incident 4 hours later.

I promised I would never marry again, and I won’t ever get married again. I never thought I’d do it at all, and it was the best decision I ever made in my life.

I married a truly great man, a hero to this world, to countless world nations and human populations both allied and non combatant civilians, the United States of America, all the communities across the country where he served the poorest of the poor in times of need, his town, his home, his wife and silly little kitty who walks around at 2:00 a.m. yowling for him. It’s when he would sneak her treats without me “knowing” – but of course I knew.

It’s also the time he died.

I love you Ray, you were one of the only two people with whom I truly knew unconditional love, the other being my Mother.

May you rest always and may your loving spirit move through this world as a reminder that war and strife do not have to change the loving nature of a human’s heart.

I have been blessed to know you 30 years, and especially blessed to have married you, as our time together as husband and wife was short, it was truly a compatible, happy and honest, loving marriage.

Peaceful now we go. T43 xoxox love to you and love to me always and forever.