I (dad) am writing these few words while flying to a weekend appointment. There is a passenger on board that did not pay for his fare. I offered to pay it for him, but they refused. He is sitting in the seat next to me. He reclines in somewhat of a mystical “praying hands” position. He is so small he sits unnoticed. His mother is not here. He has never spoken a word. He does not cry. His father is alive today, somewhere on earth. A friend gave him to me to care for. Lunch will be served in a few moments, yet he will not eat. He once had a very strong appetite – but no more. He didn’t lose it, it was taken from him!
He will never again swim with abandoned pleasure in the fluids of his mother’s womb. She did not love him. He is in limbo. His cry was never heard.
His “personal choice” to live was cast aside. He was not made a “ward of the court” but to the contrary, all protections, by the courts, were removed from him. He was one of five million who have been wasted by a culture that places a “low self-image on life”.
The doctors who took the vow to preserve life, deliberately destroyed his. He was not sucked out of the womb in small bits and pieces much like a garbage disposal discharges waste. He was one of the elite who was poisoned with a saline (salt) solution. He did not drink it willingly. It was injected into his little world.
Now he sits – quiet and still. He is preserved in chemicals, and kept inside a special container – hidden from the eyes of the living. Atrocities of any given generation happen – yet none seems to be aware of them while they are going on.
We’re now making our decent into New York City. This could have been his hometown, for more of his relatives were aborted here last year than were born alive. I dare not remove him from his hiding place. He would strike fear in the hearts of all the passengers.
His conception was a personal choice, and so was his death. He is a legal “homicide” yet never threatened anyone with harm. He may have been another Einstein or Edison.
He is silent yet so eloquent.
He is naked and defenseless, yet he attacks us – reminds us – shames us!
We fear him for we have failed to love him.
We hide from him, yet there is no place.
Now everyone is departing. Look at them – hugging loved ones – sweethearts embracing. It’s great to be alive.
My little friend? His life stopped at 20 weeks yet he is perfectly formed. Weight – about half pound – size – a handful.
On his tomb is placed the saying, “Cold is my grave, but O I love it. For colder were my friends above it.”
“Personal choice?” We’ve heard from the living, perhaps now we should listen to the dead
People have many “personal choices”. What to eat, wear, and where to work, who to marry, which church to attend, and on and on. We have “personal choices”. Maybe we need to re-think the “personal choice” of Abortion. What happened to dad’s friend’? Dad had him ‘laid to rest’ in a beautiful place, with a quiet ceremony.