How’s The Hook Doing?

It’s been awhile, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to reintroduce myself…

Hello, everyone, my name is Robert Hookey but you can call me The Hook, everyone else does. 

I’ve had the great honor of addressing all of you via this slice of cyberspace for years now, though I’ve been noticeably absent for months now. That isn’t going to change anytime soon (this message, such as it is, being the obvious exception) but I just wanted to update you, my lovely and sweet-smelling readership base, on a few things:

ONE)  I am indeed still among the living. Sort of. I have a pulse, my lungs appear to be functioning as well as one would expect the lungs of a forty-eight-year-old, non-smoking, white male to be working. In general, my physical form is operating efficiently.

But my mind is all over the place. I alternate back and forth between being a functioning part of society, such as it is these days, and a total veg. The reason for that is simple really…

TWO)  My mother is still dead. But yes, my warped, more-than-slightly-askew sense of humor is still alive and kicking!

To suggest that my mother’s prolonged battle with flesh eating disease, which became bladder cancer, which became the bone cancer that ultimately claimed her life has taken a toll on me is to suggest Donnie Trump has been a tad controversial this past year.

I’ve been unable to write anything longer than a tweet for three months. With one exception; a few lines I wrote in the hospital on my phone as my mother lay sleeping…

“I’ve never understood the saying, “The silence was deafening”, not until I sat with my mother as she lay dying.

Oh sure, there was a cacophony of back ground noise, medical staff and earnest trainees milling about, alarms beeping, patients moaning and pleading to go home, but the silence in the room itself was too powerful to be ignored.”

And that’s it, that’s all I’ve been capable of for three months. The emotional aftermath from clearing up my mother’s affairs and discovering the extent to which her life had fallen apart have also proven to be a challenge but one that’s been largely dealt with, so I have that going for me, which is nice.

THREE)  Between my father-in-law, Rockin’ Ronnie, my mother, and another friend who appears to be on the edge, it feels like Death itself is constantly looming over me. I keep thinking about that poem about God walking alongside a person and carrying them at times.

That poem sucks.

God doesn’t walk beside me, He just occasionally sticks his foot out and laughs as I fall on my face. Death, however has been hanging about like that party guest you just can’t convince to leave or that neighbor or co-worker that makes you cringe every time you see them. I’ve become fascinated with understanding the concept of anti-life.

Though I realize I never will. Not until it’s too late to share, at least.

 

I’ve actually met this version of Death from Supernatural in person. He was quite nice.

 

Dead people look like they’re sleeping. But they’re not. They appear to be at peace. But there’s no way of knowing for sure, they could be screaming, “Let me out of this rotting meat bag!” for all we know.

I apologize if my humor is offensive to some of you, but the truth is, humor is a great defense mechanism. It’s no pepper spray.. but it’ll work in a pinch.

And that’s all I have for you today. I’ve rambled, I’ve pondered, I’ve shared. Now I’m done.

See you in the lobby or the cemetery, kids…