nccotus

just buried Arthur Robin.

had a little funeral out back.

so that he is finally released to go to Heaven.

So, the Cambridge psychoanalyst got stuck spinning his wheels when I was at the John’s Hopkins University Hospital psych ward.

Firced to b ditch me to save his practice.

I contacted him several t8mes before and after that.

he was always a supervisory presence in my mind anyway.

it went bad when we moved to Florida, Dr. Reading at USF queered me off of him. But I returned there to that beautiful energy when I was implementing my practice of retroactively interpolating a better way regarding past situations and circumstances. We called him Kerouac–me and Ian.

He was the opposite of an evil eye. A baseline that proved everything to the good in the end. The benefit of those times a few years ago are continuing to trickle through right now. Gave a sweet touch to those bad and difficult times in our lives. Now I am able to see Arthur Robin–the kid whom I aborted at 13–at the crux of all of those bad sick and horrible moments that characterized our lives–mine, Ian’s and Alex’s. His life needed to be addressed and I didn’t even consciously know he existed.

I am pulling my hands up as if at the baptismal font at St. Mary’s and finding nothing. All I see is Ian, my pride and joy! Etched in white light. I do not match his holiness. I have the benefit of having this beautiful child in my life.