'Fred had drifted off into the ether then and there was no drawing him back.'As the screen glowed in front of him, Fred suddenly remembered his own "real" family. His wife had died five years ago and that was the last straw. Fred had drifted off into the ether then and there was no drawing him back.
His son, Ted, and his daughter, Martha, had tried, but they had no skills. They'd been raised in a world that reviled weakness; it assumed a sort of Darwinian Capitalism where only the strong survived, so when their father fell ill they reached out... but only a little. If God intended him to survive perhaps he would? They'd done all they could do, in the truest sense of the phrase. They couldn't see how it mattered, and, most of all, they couldn't see their role in any of it.
So now their father lived in a box in an alley, and neither Martha nor Ted gave the slightest thought to it after the initial angst that their friends might see them, taking care of this husk of a man who had lost his moorings, lost his mind.
'...taking care of this husk of a man who had lost his moorings, lost his mind.'