The ferry

I’m waiting at the ferry terminal for the next boat. You can’t help but notice all the different people. Who’s going to work, tourists, “regular” looking people probably going to an appointment or visit…and then there’s the homeless and/or mentally ill.

Having a developmentally disabled son who also has a mental illness makes me scared. Not scared of the people but scared for them. How did they end up here sitting with a cup of coffee talking and yelling to someone who isn’t there?

Did they lose contact with their family, take off and decide they didn’t need their medication or worse yet unable to afford their meds and no one to oversee them taking their meds? There’s one man I’ve seen and spoken to on more than one occasion. At first glance, taking in his clothing and overall appearance one would assume he’s homeless.  I don’t know this as fact as I’ve never asked him. In speaking to him you can tell that he has some sort of developmental disability. I immediately think of my son and get sick to my stomach envisioning him on the streets. And it’s all I can do but not panic for his future. The future where Tommy and I are no longer alive to protect him.  Logically I know Tommy and I have taken every step possible that Thomas be cared for and eventually I’ll have to school his sisters on his care so they’ll be able to advocate for him if need be. They won’t have to halt their lives to care for him, Thomas’ group home placement is permanent. He’ll be there for “life”.

So what happened with the obviously ill and disabled people I see on an almost daily basis? Did their families get exasperated in taking care of them ? Did the person run off away from family at some point? Have they fallen through the cracks of city agencies, foster system, parole system, etc…

Im sure everyone has an interesting story.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.