Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Families.
Understanding Joy
In a warmer and politically safe part of the world lounged a woman that drank coffee, not with a roman sophistication but as a habitual movement that accounted for breath. Without fail, each day, she awakened by 4 in the morning with nowhere to go. A shuffle to the kettle and a slide of the heavy back door were merely short travels between two places to be. Once the weighted glass pane un-stuck from its seal, crashing waves often revealed a jagged soundscape that had a slight eeriness to match. Misted air joined oxygen only briefly before a tube of relief was inserted towards her mouth. Nudged abreast lined lips, of which had uttered many words across humbled time, a flame flicked. Upon inhale, the shoulders dropped and an arm extended, reaching for caffeine and another day.
By Emily Dawn5 years ago in Families
THE NEXT CHAPTER
“If I gave you $20,000, would you reconsider?” ….. “I’ll have a think about it then get back to you”. Although the voice on the other end is obliging and courteous, I just cannot come to such a sudden and swift decision like that, especially when it involves such a sentimental piece of my life; albeit in the form of a black notebook. As I sit here perched on the side of the bed with this notebook in my hand, I cannot help but feel this is a fork in the road or a sign that perhaps it’s time to begin the next chapter. Saying goodbye is never easy, especially when the farewell process has been delayed for 15 years. After the loss of David, it seemed any moment that arose which involved confronting his loss was just another opportunity for me to delve deeper in to things that reminded me of him. Needless to say, the hoarding of his collectables began to grow throughout the years. None more so than this black notebook, filled with his poetry, journal entries and potential future song lyrics. In the immediate aftermath of David’s death, and the 2 or 3 years that followed, the popularity of his music, live performances and photos reached something of a fever pitch. There were numerous requests for an interview by journalists, all of which I turned down as the eagerness of their requests matched my unwillingness to talk about personal moments and memories that only two people will ever truly understand. As the years passed, and the requests began to dissipate, I came to a sudden and strong realisation; people had forgotten or stopped caring about David and his music, or so it seemed at the time. In truth, it was not a lack of public interest that kept David from being talked about but rather an unwillingness on my part to share David and his beautiful legacy and achievements with those that loved him equally. Initially, I felt I was the only person worthy of David’s love though, by keeping him all to myself, I was denying the fans the love David gave to them and the love they gave in return. Little by little I began to open myself to the idea of talking about David, which I did in an interview regarding the 10th anniversary of his passing. Last year I even forced myself to confront my fears by attending the site of David’s accident which provided some closure and healing. Later that night, as I pored over the pages of the notebook, there was a quote David had written in the top right-hand corner of the page with the words WHEN YOU GIVE, YOU RECEIVE. LIVE FOR OTHERS AND NOT FOR YOURSELF. In that moment, as if it were divine intervention, I felt a sudden calmness and that, almost ironically, David was still giving even after he was gone. He always had a knack for finding the right words just when I needed it. In truth, this quote cannot be totally attributed to David as I do recall him mentioning this quote after visiting a Buddhist monk whilst travelling through Nepal. He mentioned how his eyes were opened with this revelation and how giving and living for others truly sets you free. It was also a sudden realisation that I had spent too long taking and hoarding when what I really needed to start doing was giving. Following on from this epiphany, and the calmness I soon felt afterwards, my next move was to return Phil’s call regarding the offer. I have always felt comfortable with Phil, maybe because we share a few commonalities with regards to David. We have both known David for roughly the same amount of time and we both had our own type of relationship with him. We often joked that I was Dave’s partner at home and Phil was Dave’s partner outside of it. Although Phil had the role of David’s manager, he never once gave off an air of superiority or arrogance. He was, and still is, a very level headed man who was great for David and probably brought him back down to earth at times when he needed it. After two rings a familiar voice answered,
By A.B Nikolis5 years ago in Families
Dear Fathers. Top Story - February 2021.
Dear fathers in your many forms, I am blessed to have one of you close, adopt others, marvel and smile at many, desire to see freedom and justice for others. I learn from you, the depths of your roots and the worlds in your eyes. I’ve grown up amidst tangible yous and messages about you, depictions that usually seemed to miss the mark--overlooked huge parts of your heart. As a kid I often felt pained, sad watching movies with black men, like my dad or about black stories because they seemed incessantly heavy. I was confused, because my black family and community had their strife, but there was so much fun and vibrant life.
By Carly F. J.5 years ago in Families
Wishful Thinking
Stevie sighed, breath steaming in the cold, like escaping frustration from his boiling thoughts. He was starting to detest thrift stores. Ever since his dad had gotten sick, his mom had dragged him from one junkpile to the next. Brooke, his annoying little sister, was in quite the opposite mood. Her two braids with sparkly beads, bounced with excitement as they crunched through the snow, to the entrance of the store with BRAD’S BARGAIN BIN written on over it. Stevie wished Brad, whoever he was, had decided to open something more exciting with his money. Like a laundromat. Or a tire shop. It could be worse, he thought grumpily, like Linda’s Lost & Found. That lady couldn’t decide if her shop was a store, or just a place to let her six cats run wild, stinking up the place.
By Reed Moore 5 years ago in Families
The Book of Needs
Mary understood secrets. Good secrets, bad secrets, and those shaded in gray tones of ambiguity. So when the small package arrived with a post office box number but no name on the return address she instinctively knew she was holding a secret. Its mystery was held in a plain cardboard box with her name and address printed on a white label, and she was a little afraid to open it. Secrets have a way of bursting out of their careful packaging and upending your life.
By Maria Shimizu Christensen5 years ago in Families
The Unexpected Gift
Dorothy was such a sweet old woman; everybody loved her! All the kids in the neighborhood often came to her house just to get a taste of her warm chocolate chip cookies or fresh baked apple pie. Dorothy had two kids; a girl named Laura and a boy named Christopher who by now have had kids of their own. Laura's daughter Zoey was such a great little girl. She often spent time after school and on the weekends with Dorothy. The two were thick as thieves. Laura was somewhat of a party girl and stayed out a lot but Dorothy didn’t mind because that gave her even more time to spend with little Zoey. Zoey would always ask her grandma to read her a bedtime story before bed and most of the time she read the classic storybooks sitting up on her old book shelf, but this particular night, Dorothy decided that she had an extra special story to tell. Zoey excitedly threw on her pajamas, brushed her teeth and jumped straight into bed to hear the special story grandma Dorothy had in store. As Zoey got under the warm fluffy covers, Dorothy began her tale!
By Lalonda McClain5 years ago in Families
Things We Know and Things We Learn
He didn’t have much to miss about California, there wasn’t very much to remember. They left when he was very young and never had much reason to return. Her relationship with her parents was complicated and exhausting. She knew she didn’t want to have the same relationship with her children as her parents had with her. It was surprisingly easy to leave and not look back.
By Brian Glover5 years ago in Families
Grieving the experiences we missed
I’ve spent months debating whether this is something I should write or something better left in my head. But I am a stronger believer that words are more dangerous when they’re trapped in our minds, and by putting it on paper (or digital blogs) it is a safe place to store these thoughts.
By Emily Fernan5 years ago in Families
