While I was living in Hamilton, Ontario my 7 year old son was left to die from strep throat in Calgary by his mother. I was not told he was sick and I was not told he died. I found out by accident a week later on Facebook. She was charged with the crime and goes to court this November.
http://calgaryherald.com/news/local-news/trial-set-for-mom-who-used-holistic-medicine-to-treat-fatally-ill-son

Only the wisest and the stupidest of men never change.

This is the perfect steem profile for anybody who hopes to find out about this topic. You understand a whole lot its almost tough to argue with you (not that I personally would want to...HaHa). You definitely put a brand new spin on a topic that has been written about for many years. Wonderful stuff, just wonderful http://media0.giphy.com/media/FihMsmKxNdStq/giphy.gif

This happened to a classmate of mine when we were in Grade 3. Jerry was raised by his grandparents. He was fighting with another boy who whispered to him: 'You are the reason that your parents abandoned you.' The look of agony that came across his face still, 30 years later, breaks me down.

The date was going so well. We had originally met at Monopoly game night at a mutual friend's house. The connection was instantaneous. He look so handsome in his black, long-sleeved shirt. I look disheveled in my sweatshirt and track pants. But what stated out as a date filled with fun shopping, and now ice cream, seemed to grow quiet, as date sometimes do.

We ate our ice cream at Jerry's Deli, licking from plastic spoons. He double-chocolate with strawberry stripes, me cherry cheesecake with chocolate flakes.

Usually people don't look off in the distance during dates, to think. But Mitchell seemed to do this, looking right through me.

"Something the matter?" I asked

"I have something to tell you."

I only looked at him.

"I have a disease called Epstein-Barr. Many people have it, but never know. For whatever reason, my body has flare ups. It comes and goes."

I touched his hand. "I'm so sorry. Is everything OK?"

"Yes, I'm fine now. But some days..." He stuck his spoon in the ice cream.

A fear swept me. I couldn't bear to look at him. I could possibly catch his disease. Where could that leave us, in the future? How do I adjust my lifestyle, with what I have?

"I have something to tell you, as well."

Mitchell looked at me with sad eyes. 

I took a deep breath. "I have a disease, as well. It's a form of blood cancer. I've lived with it my whole life." 

Mitchell took my hand, and it seemed like we had made the first step towards a worthwhile connection.

While walking me to my car in the parking lot, we shared a bit more about our families. He took my hand and kissed me. His lips were warm, his breath lightly chocolate.

"Text me when you get home, so I know you made it safely back."

I nodded my head. "I will."

The drive home, I thought of all the people who are scared about things they don't know much about, or diseases they don't understand. I never thought I would develop feelings for someone who also had a disease, someone who understood what it was like to sometimes live with pain, someone who empathized, who was willing to take a chance on damaged goods.

When I returned home, I texted Mitchell. *Got home okay. Thanks for the wonderful evening.*

He never texted me back.

Hi! This post has a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flesch%E2%80%93Kincaid_readability_tests">Flesch-Kincaid</a> grade level of 5.8 and reading ease of 85%. This puts the writing level on par with Jane Austen and JK Rowling.

How often do you listen to the radio? What is your favorite radio station?

I find it interesting that the saddest I have ever been is the day I found someone I love more than myself. We have one life to live, right? That was my thinking, anyway; you are the main character in your story so screw everyone else.
 
That's what I thought until I met HER. You know who I'm talking about. That smile, that genuine smile you will never forget for the rest of your life, where she closes her eyes and laughs that sweet, gentle laugh. And you feel so good because _you did that_. She smiles, she laughs, she feels _for you_. We have all experienced the kind of love they write about in books. You have never cared so much for someone in all your life. You ache for her so badly that you can feel a deep pit forming in your stomach when she's gone. Nothing can tear you apart, not _ever_.

Or so you thought. Because the saddest day of your life is the day you find someone you care for more than yourself. That is the day you give a piece of yourself to someone and ask them not to drop it. And when they do? You get it back, of course, but broken and taped together. You can give that piece to someone else, but we all know the value of something broken is worth far less than something new.

You will _never_ be as valuable as the day you let a smile steal your heart.

**Any other takers today? I'll go too in the meantime**

“Will that be all?”

“Sir?”

“Sir, will that be all?”

I saw her.... That blue dress… only a glimpse before disappearing around the corner, but enough to be sure.

“Sorry” my voice wavered “Just the check please.”

I see her everywhere.

So beautiful in that dress. I love her so much.

A tear stains the napkin on my lap.

I miss her. I see her everywhere and I miss her so much. That blue dress… 

I close my eyes, bracing for what comes next.

But I can’t escape it. The movie flashes on the back of my eyelids. 

The blue dress is in tatters. Unrecognizable. The white sheet covers the object of my shattered heart on the cold pavement. 

Jagged glass and charred metal resemble what might have once been a yellow dodge neon.

Rubber tracks on the road in the wrong direction.

I see her and the stitches in my heart rip open again.

I loved her so much.

And still she died alone.

All I can remember is how she froze up, how one second she was the invincible warrior she’s always been and the next second she was spasming on the floor.

“It’s a neurodegenerative disease,” she explains, sitting on the bed across from me. “The doctors think it’s a result of a chemical attack on the village my mother lived in while she was pregnant.”

I struggle to find words. I want to have a nuanced reaction. I want to be concerned, supportive, but not overbearing. Pain forms a sentence before I can though.

“How long?” 

“What?” she asks.

“How long have you known about this?” I ask.

She’s quiet for a long time, long enough for me to know the answer before it comes. “Since I joined the Academy. I found out during my physical.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask. “We’re partners.”

“Because I didn’t want you to see me as broken,” she protested. “I didn’t want you to think I can’t fight.”

“Kayla, you can’t,” I say. “You almost died today! What happens if you have another episode in the middle of a fight? What if I can’t get to you in time? You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“I’m dead anyway!” she snapped, louder and angrier and more raw than I’ve ever heard her. I freeze in shock, and she keeps yelling. “There is no cure for what I have. There is no treatment. I won’t live to see thirty no matter what I do. I don’t want to die in hospital bed, trapped inside my own body. I don’t want to die a vegetable. I want to die the way I lived. Fighting, protecting people, making a difference! I want to die a warrior.”

“Kayla, please…” I beg.

“Don’t,” she interrupts me. “Just don’t.”

She was dressed in white, he held flowers in his hand. But they didn't speak a word,exactly like a year ago in December when he visited her grave.