Yearning from loss

I heard the piece as part of a collaboration and asked if I could join in. I had thought the composer a young woman, but it turned out it was a younger boy. The lyrics were compelling.

I am reminded of it as I approach some crossroads.

The NSW Department of Education have had sufficient time to examine what they did over the case of Hamidur Rahman. Hamidur died from apparent school neglect and a few people who may have been embarrassed by an adverse finding seem to have conspired to contain the damage. My testimony could have been significant, except it seems to have been held from the NSW Coroner by former Ministers of the former NSW ALP Government, including Tripodi, Della Bosca and others.

The fact that the Department haven't spoken with me since their investigation suggests bad things for me. I have not had my full time job in over four years. I have lost my life savings. I have been denied work in my occupation. But the cost I bear goes deeper than the money thing.

I was abandoned several times in my life by my father, and he died while we were estranged. He may have been involved in my current issue, but I will never know, and always suspect. I spoke with him over dinner a year before he died. He asked how I was going but as I raised the issue, declared he was bored and changed the subject. My last words to him were for him to stay in touch.

A sister of mine visited Sydney recently. She was here for a few weeks but we only met the day before she flew out. She had spent the time with my mother who betrayed me decades ago to a guy who raped me when I was a child. My sister is seeking to reconcile us. She asks to visit Dad's old workplaces. All the places are related to my rapist too. He worked near my dad. We eat at a restaurant which my rapist introduced to my dad. My sister might not know this. I don't tell her. She asks me if I wish to talk with family. I don't. She asks if I want to learn about family history. I do, but I point out that talking with family won't help me do that, that they talk about themselves but not about things I can learn from. My mother's betrayal has poisoned much.

I recently took on an administration responsibility. A person who was involved with it let me know they had been mistreated by bigots. Turns out those bigots include various leaders of the Australian Tea Party, ADL (Australian Defence League) and the Australian Protectionist Party (APP). I responsibly and proportionately deal with the matter, but I am spooked when an EDL wannabe murders a crowd in Norway, and I disconnect from my church for a time and from members in an attempt to deflect from them the anger from bigots. Stupidly the victim has threatened the bigots with legal action, guaranteeing that no one forgets or moves on. It isn't the victim's fault ..

And then I am in love, and have hopes. I want a family. But it may be the case that my hopes are too ambitious. Without a job or a career I have no income to pay for my hope. My health is not good and it may be that family is not possible. With God, all things are possible, but I can't really complain because before I embraced God, I rejected him many times. And so maybe these crossroads are the end. What I have done I have done. I thank God for the blessings he gave me. I feel I rose to the challenge posed by Hamidur Rahman's death. I have my projects, a few I hope to finish;

1. Reading the entire bible and posting it online (almost done).
2. Reading Charles Spurgeon's Morning and Evening daily postings (initiated)
3. Writing my theology book "He lives" a two part autobiographical treatise on how I came to know god, divided into accepting theoretically and embracing spiritually.
4. Writing my science fiction series (first book half written)
5. Rebooting my horror series "Mystery of Webster's Curse" and related