grief
Losing a family member is one of the most traumatic life events; Families must support one another to endure the five stages of grief and get through it together.
Mary
Everyone leaves us with something. Sometimes they bequeath us a house, or family photos. Perhaps we are given a watch, or willed a piece of heirloom jewelry. The most valuable gems are usually the memories. Those priceless tidbits that can't be held in the hands, but only in the heart. They are the pieces of our life, the chapters of our story. They are both happy and sad, full of fear, and love. If we meant something to someone during their lifetime, after they pass from this world they want us to have something of them. It might be because they loved us, it may be out of a feeling of obligation, or maybe, they just don't want to be forgotten.
By Elizabeth Livecchi5 years ago in Families
Two More
Touch every ocean The landing gear hit the ground, jerking Lane Bishop awake. Immediately his neck began to ache from his in-flight nap. He considered maybe he should have moved around a bit while in the air for circulation, then dismissed it a moment later with a chuckle, causing the young woman next to him to cast a puzzled side eye glance his way. The irony of trying to prevent death at this point did not fail to amuse him. With the plane approaching the gate, Lane grabbed his carry on from under the seat in front of him and turned his phone back on. As it started up, he pulled out his small black notebook from the front pocket, already opened to the page he needed. He did not need to look at the writing, he had had it memorized for the last two years, but it gave him comfort still.
By Heather Harter5 years ago in Families
Your Closet
Six years ago over a warm, sunny Memorial Day weekend, we watched you die in the bright hospice room that Pop had found for you with a view of the rose garden. I hadn't seen you in a couple months, busy in L.A. with your two lively grandchildren and a full life. We spent Easter with you at Andria’s. You were very thin then, but still yourself. When I walked in and saw you, just skin and bones, six weeks later, it felt like someone punched me in the gut. I hadn't known you were actually going to die, organs failing hour-by-hour. I had planned so many questions and conversations in my head on my five-hour drive up from Los Angeles. But when I got there, you weren't able to speak. Just barely whispers, asking for tea that you couldn't swallow.
By Patricia Tay5 years ago in Families
Leather Jacket
The air in my parents’ attic carried the scent of our family, of decades spent in the house built on what had once been an orchard. It was the must of old books, the brightness of elderflower tonic, the funk of cucumbers pickling in the kitchen. It was the condensed aroma of our life together, and I would have bottled it if I could have. Sitting on the unfinished wooden floor, surrounded by my father’s possessions, I struggled to keep my mind from wandering through days gone past. Mementos from events I hadn’t thought about in years passed from their cardboard prisons into my hands and then to their assigned piles, sometimes with ease, sometimes only through the grace afforded me after several minutes of pondering.
By Kristy Ockunzzi-Kmit5 years ago in Families
Together We Go
My mother has died. And like thousands of others, because of Covid, she is gone without ceremony. Although shattered by the suddenness, my pain is alleviated because she escaped an otherwise long and painful death. Identifying her body at the funeral home cocooned in PPE was traumatic. Leaving her 77 year old dead body in a frigid, sterile white basement, alone on a steel slab other deceased bodies had no doubt visited, felt unforgivable. My sorrow took me to bed for days.
By Geraldine Lloyd5 years ago in Families
The Choice
The first thing he noticed was the carpets in the room: blood-red fabric laced with a hectic array of beige and black lines that didn’t seem to follow any pattern. The air felt heavy as he took a seat in the guest chair. A wiry man with circular glasses and a mismatched suit sat opposite him at a large oak desk, behind which were dozens of bookshelves ranging from law encyclopedias to directories of funeral services. If someone had asked him to describe what he expected to see today, he would have described this down to the last detail.
By Wen Parker5 years ago in Families
The Little Black Book
My Grandma’s always been kind of weird… Well I guess that’s no way to start a new journal is it? Besides, I never know, maybe this will be the next journal to be largely published and become famous in my death; or at the very least it’ll be made into some sort of crazy science fiction fantasy epic with all the big budgets and everything that comes with those type of big Hollywood affairs. After all these words that I am about to write down will seem pretty farfetched, I assure you though, this all really happened. I suppose I should introduce myself then, just in case there’s someone else who’s going to be reading this. My name is Sue Hardy, and what I’m about to write down in these very pages is nothing short of mind blowing.
By BWS Studios5 years ago in Families
