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.
An April Kind of Day
Her day had been a definite eight out of ten on the bad scale of long and taxing ones. To begin with, it started way too early; even earlier than her usual four am workday alarm. It had started with a phone call from the nursing home around three thirty from a familiar and panicked voice on the other end complaining that “the nurses aren’t giving me my medicines and they won’t give me any coffee.” As the seasoned nursing professor sat up in bed and listened to her mother, there was no being worked up in emotions, as she had run interference many times before. The difficult part was calming and appeasing her cherished, yet very stubborn parent. The staff would listen and follow any suggestions she would give them, not only because they knew her so well, but because she had been a clinical coach in college to many of them. Her mother would get a cup of coffee.Having put that small fire out, coffee didn’t sound like such a bad idea. Besides, her cat was insisting on being fed and the two dogs needed to go outside. She remembered she would need to dry her uniform to make sure it was fluffed out of any wrinkles. “Ah, another day,” she thought, as her morning routines began. By this time her mind had fast-forwarded to the plans she had for her students at the clinical facility where they were training.
By Shirley Belk5 years ago in Families
Grief, Fear, Love and Meanness
Grief, Fear, Love and Meanness People deal with grief differently. I respect that. Some deal with it by walking away and going on with as normal a day as possible. Some cannot face it head on but neither can they find their way to act “normal” and so they spend the day with family or friends who are also grieving. Another person may need to cancel all normal things and isolate themselves choosing to spend the day alone.
By Paula C. Henderson5 years ago in Families
Superman
First off, hello, my name is Haven. I’m from NY, not the city. This tattoo tale is one of many things that broke me, and taught me to rise from the ashes as a better more compassionate version of myself. This story is hundred percent based on my life experience from this past May.
By Haven centi5 years ago in Families
A Tattoo Tale
"Jillian, it's me. I have cancer," The raspy tired voice floated through the receiving end of my phone. A light ringing tone started after the words fell as I was still rubbing my eyes awake the morning of Valentine's Day 2017. I looked over and watched as my most recent love lay tangled in my sheets, trying to reposition into sleep after the electric trill cut the early morning glory earlier than expected. Unexpected is one word I could use to describe the call I got that day. Not only with the information that it contained but also because of who was on the other side. My mother, who I had now not talked to in 45 days after she had beaten me with words of ineptitude and worthlessness as her daughter after coming out to her for the now third time of my adult life. No, she's not just a friend; no, I don't want to date guys; yes, I want to fuck women. But for some reason, it's like some people only hear what they want to believe, only see what their mind allows them to. I could still hear her words echoing in the background, my new name tags hanging from safety pins in my skin. Words can hurt- like knives. Bleeding tears, I sped from her driveway in Phoenix with a vow that we were done, she had made it clear, she was not my mother any longer and that I was a blemish to her name. She wanted nothing to do with me and my "trash girlfriend". Fine. By. Me.
By Jillian LaCroix5 years ago in Families
Too Free to Fly
On March, 27, 2013 I got my first tattoo in Buenos Aires, Argentina. It was college senior year. For spring break, I flew to to that perfect city with two of my closest friends, Gabriella and Sarah. For seven days we danced the streets, took photographs, sipped coffee in charming cafes, moseyed around art museums, and drank wine until 4:00 am. This was my first time out of the country and I fell in love with the feeling only traveling to a new country can give you...freedom. I thought about this feeling most of the week and how I didn't want to lose it. Buenos Aires made me feel like a bird with endless opportunities to fly.
By Lauren Snyder5 years ago in Families
Humming birds and daffodils
I got my first tattoo when I was fourteen years old. I had my fathers name written in scripture on my neck in a friends basement. “Tony” was always going to be my first- ever since I had thought about tattoos- ever since I experienced pain. I decided to put it on my neck because he is always in between my heart and my head.
By Katryna Rose5 years ago in Families
The tattoo I never wanted
I am a lover of tattoos. I have always admired them. I dont believe I have been in a relationship with a man who didnt have tattoos. As my kids began to get older they always talked about their first tattoo, I was firm and said not until you are 18.
By Tina Pihota5 years ago in Families
Death is a friend of mine
“I had done this a thousand times, well quite a bit more than a thousand but who’s counting, and this time would be no different. It’s just something that has to be done and there is dignity to it. That day I went to comfort an old friend, to ease his pain and grant him that reunion he had been aching for. That has always been my favorite part, the end. It’s a way to wrap it all up. That’s what everyone is looking for, the happy ending. All of the best stories have a happy ending, unfortunately the happiness is reserved for the protagonist. In fact most support characters dread the big end, but every one knows when its time to run those credits.
By Bijou Binx 5 years ago in Families
She is signed upon my skin, but lives within my mind and heart...
This is my first tattoo, inked on my 23-year-old skin at my local tattoo parlour in Warrnambool, Victoria, of Australia. I never cared much for tattoos growing up in my teenage years and I never planned tattoos for when I would turn eighteen. I always admired a good tattoo and the story behind it. The story coming from the person with the tattoo is what interests me the most. I definitely see that tattoos can be the initial source of expression for that story, an artistic symbol for the story that is hard to express otherwise.
By Hayden Laird5 years ago in Families
