The weight that spans my shoulders weighs heavy upon my heart.
In a series of almost comedic events my life went from that of hope, peacefulness and routines, to one of chaos, hopelessness and fear.
I could have avoided all of this if only my building management had informed me immediately of the non-payment of my rent. By their delaying me notice until late September, I had then accumulated August,September and October’s payment all at once.
An impossibility considering my income.
And now I am mere days away from losing all my material possessions and the psychological trauma of being homeless with a thirteen year old son.
I have tried all the various resources to no avail. I am a victim of that social services hole between disability and pension. Too young to be old and too old to be young.
Soon I must face the surgeon’s scalpel. Not once, but at the least twice. A kidney removal and gall bladder.
I am not strong enough to battle this battle with the lingering shadow of homelessness dangling above my soul.
I am a fifty nine year old bundle of shame and embarrassment.
I am humbled to becoming a mere beggar – hoping for the kindness of strangers to assist me in climbing this abyss.
So, I am left wondering, crying and praying that a miracle comes into my life and I will not have to look my child in his eyes and say:
“I have failed you my son.”
For with that statement my reason for being will have become dust in the winds of despair.
I no not what to do but pray and hope.