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.
The Raw, the Painful, the Shameful
When am I embodying an authentic self? Is it when I am in the flow of writing or painting, and nothing exists but the page or canvas I am filling? When that flow happens before my brain has registered what my hands are doing, they having taken on a life of their own?
By S. Venugopal 4 years ago in Families
An Ode to My Father
When I was sixteen, my father was diagnosed with brain cancer. I remember in vivid detail getting called to the office out of a theatre class, hearing the news, and returning semi-composedly only to completely break down in the middle of a peer’s presentation. He passed away three weeks and six days later.
By Aidan Clifton4 years ago in Families
An Ohio Burial
It was an early morning in central Ohio. The sun was rising as we passed the ring of the 270 outer belt, heading north. The hours stretched before us on what seemed to be a pilgrimage I was honor-bound to make. My father drove, and I could watch the dew rise from the fields of corn as we passed. Growing up, I knew only the cities and suburbs of Cleveland; the vast agricultural swaths in between metropolises was still quaint and foreign to me. Cleveland: where we were now headed, where my father had been raised, where his last remaining blood relative, other than my brothers and I, had been prepared for burial, and was now waiting for us to arrive.
By Cassie Bogdan Slemmer4 years ago in Families
Mouth Wide Open. Top Story - December 2021.
The book I brought with me that day was only 98 pages long. Long enough to pass the time sitting in the overly lit, bustling waiting room, but not so long and intricate that it required focused commitment while sitting in the uncomfortable pleather covered chairs. Perfect, I thought, for the longest, shortest, scariest, and loneliest 56 minutes of my life, waiting for news that would decide the future. And it was perfect, as just a few minutes after closing the back cover, they called me back to you. You were still groggy from anesthesia when the doctor arrived and said the words to us. In those extra moments it took you to process ‘pancreatic cancer’, I was alone with the knowledge that our time together had just gotten cut short, back when alone was something I had mistaken thought I had experienced in full.
By Becca Lory Hector4 years ago in Families
Unforgettable Memories
Fee you are a special scar beyond the rough rock, of one wild song. The scent of dried roses and silent grief had you chasing death from malignant sadness. You were dying to be free from a silent grief of suicidal thoughts. But you were in too deep with your thinking, catching fire, like the last falling leaves, on the edge of time. Your troubled mind was ripped from the headlines of shattered glass with a mirage of feelings, that cuts like a knife. Those shallow grave images touched the surface of your fractured mind, until it was torn away by an unforgivable death.
By Bernadine Jarmon4 years ago in Families
Catharsis
They look like pictures Scattered on the floor But be wary Pictures have a way of cutting deep Leaving scars I have this recurring nightmare where I'm going about a normal day, maybe I'm running errands, maybe I'm picking up a to-go order for dinner, and I look up and see the local news on one of the tv screens. Normally I don't pay attention to it. I don't like the news, would never choose to watch it, but this one keep my attention, steals my breath and won't give it back. Whatever I'm holding drops from my hands as the words scrolling across the screen sink in. "Breaking News: Young, White Male Found Shot In Charlotte Back Streets." And suddenly the flashing lights take on meaning, as does the yellow crime scene tape and the form in the middle of all the moving bodies. It's you. Blonde hair matted with blood, eyes unseeing and unclosed, whatever terror you felt wiped away as your brain shut down and your heart ceased beating. But it's you. Those unseeing eyes still your blue, hair tousled and stained red from your blood, but still your course dirty blond hair. You're sprawled on the street like you were running when you fell and the black cement still shines and reflects the flashing red and blue lights from the rain that fell only hours before. It all sinks in, lays heavy on my heart, as the groceries or food or whatever I'm holding crashes to the floor. It had been a normal day. Just a normal day. And then it wasn't. The crash wakes me up every time. Brings me back to reality and I realize the truth in all its horror: that day could still happen.
By Aubrey Berry4 years ago in Families
