There are uncounted pockets of missing persons in wait for the chance of being found.
A generation of lonely and mostly forgotten, abandoned by family, underserved and unacknowledged by society, making do with less than any human being should.
Few with the mobility to seek help and all living their golden years like a scrap of aluminum foil.
While they dream of somewhere else, they’ve no place better to be. They eat what they can on twenty bucks a month, pay their rent on time often at the sacrifice of air conditioning and wear the same broken glasses they bought back in the 1980s when times were different. And with few friends if any to talk with about their struggle, they are unable to muster a lasting living audience.
They’ve neither owned nor operated a computer, plow their walkers along highways in the heat of the day hoping to return home safely, and if so, with a bag from a food bank to satisfy their hunger affording them more than one meal a day. And each day they fall further into the pit.
They are medically fragile, unemployable, and marks for thieves, schemes and scam artists. They’ve few if any assets, raises in income, and no awareness that this kind of life is not normal.
Yet despite it all, they are the kindest most generous generation of friends anyone could ever have.
They want no pity, seek no justice and pray relentlessly for the best for others. They are society’s almost buried treasures still longing to be found and cherished for their patriotic, colorful, enduring life stories and the touch of someone’s hand who may listen and understand so that they themselves will never end up this way some day.
LifeMeansSoMuch.com