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.
A Promise in a Pear Tree
My parents both died when I was young in a collision with a drunk driver, on their way home from a dance recital I begged them to come and watch. I never had to beg them to go anywhere, really, they both supported me wholeheartedly no matter how long my lack of self confidence kept me from truly excelling at what I thought I could accomplish.
By Alicia Summers4 years ago in Families
Syrup Summer
It is late May in New England, and the wind in my grandmother’s yard is oozing like syrup. We are at our boiling point, my grandmother and I; we can’t agree on a goddamn thing. I came back east at the start of summer to help, and it seems I’ve done nothing but annoy; it is as if I am a fruit fly. According to her, I have no common sense. According to me, she is as stubborn as the day is long, and, for the past three weeks, the days have never seemed to end. It seems she has left for the morning, and I did not care to ask where she was headed. I am thankful for the solitude. I think I’ll sit down and write.
By Cici Bosco4 years ago in Families
Bovine Intervention
His eyes were the last thing I saw every time. Dust would be kicked up by my dancing black leather shoes as the intricate gold filigree of my attire glistened in the sun. My mouth would be dry. I could not swallow the salty tang of sweat, but my gaze, unlike my hands, was steady. Yet, no matter which way I flicked the red cape, no matter which way I spun or with how much flare, his eyes were the last thing I saw. They were black. But they weren’t just black. This black talked even if he couldn’t. This black was uncanny. Even the darkness of my room, every time I routinely burst out of a shallow slumber, was brighter. Yet it was always mum’s warm body, and a fear of getting yelled at which eventually put me back to sleep. Since mum and dad split up when I was three, according to mum - I don’t actually remember, we had moved into our very own little house. Not a word was spoken of dad since. There was a deadly silence the first and only time I had asked. I got the message. Our house was two bedrooms, but really one and a half, so mum and I had always slept together in our shared room. Anyway, small room or not, I couldn’t fall asleep by myself. I even told mum about what I kept seeing, but she passed it off as just a little kiddie thing while insisting I do my English homework before she gets the belt. Mum listened very well, but she had no time for these childish problems. Even though I had never known what it must have been like with dad here, my young unruly self could see that life was hard on mum. I could see her frown lines cut deeper, her eye wrinkles more defined, yet the limp tugging of her lips was the worst of all. She only wore her warming smile with me, but sometimes when I was at home, I would catch her true expression. I had not fallen over enough of life’s hurdles to recognise that one yet. Nonetheless, our life was good. After my interrupted sleep I would wake to an empty bed and the aroma of a fried breakfast. Breakfast was the best meal of the day. Mum somehow always made the simplest foods taste the best, but she’d always make me eat a free Woolies green apple beforehand. Every time I would always place the fruit stickers under our laminate covered dining table as an act of delinquent rebellion. After the morning tomfoolery and a scramble to make the school bus, the day fell into monotony. That was until the routine dread of sleep’s faulty veneer would envelop me once more. The nights got worse. The dread before sleep increased. My unquenched need to tell mum everything, again, grew stronger. The nightly dance with those dark eyes intensified. My flaring of that red cape enraged those eyes, just for his horns to glide under it. Yet despite my fighting efforts, every time his eyes were the last thing I saw. I didn’t know what to do. So one morning I decided. That’s it. I’m finally telling mum. I wanted to say something to her as she cooked, but my tongue simply flailed behind my pressed lips. As mum covered the hissing food I slumped silently at the table. The doorbell rang. I pulled myself out of my chair at the sound, and yelled, “I got it!”, making my way to the front of the house. “It’s probably my parcel,” replied mum as she opened the door just before me.
By Greg Dolgopolov4 years ago in Families
Benny
I roused to the familiar sound of the rooster calling from the top of the barn. My eyes opened to see the dawn light pouring in through my bedroom window. I stretched out of bed and strolled to the window to see the empty pastures that would soon be covered in happily grazing cattle. It used to be Grandad’s job to put the cattle out, but now it was mine.
By Michelle Pattison4 years ago in Families
Frozen Memories
I pull the buds from my ears, and they ring against the silent snow fall. My father always described this place as full of life. Green grass as far as the eye could see, beautifully trimmed trees for endless shade, and the large shimmering pond that was so clean and clear you could see your reflection. But this… this is a desert of snow. A blinding white that makes me want to close my eyes just to escape its void. Large, dark, leafless trees that look like they just stepped right out of a horror movie. And the pond, frozen over and littered with patches of sullied snow. The only sign of civilization is the single bench set beside the frozen pond.
By Rebecca Ontiveros4 years ago in Families
The Lives of Kittens
I hadn’t seen the accident. As Heather and her gaggle of friends were leaving for their first day of secondary school, I came down the drive and saw Beanie scamper under my van. I saw Jess’s face looking worried but didn’t really connect. Everybody was chatting except a guy who’d stopped his van by the girls and got out to ask if the cat was alright. Nobody had really seen it but he seemed overly concerned. I said, “He’s okay. I’ve just seen him scamper under my van.” Heather was now in tears so it appears she may have seen something. Our primary concern was to get her off to her first day of secondary in the right frame of mind. “Don’t worry,” I told her. “I’ll find him in a minute and see that he’s okay.” Tearfully, and with the support of her friends, she set off down the road to get the bus.
By Deacon Martin4 years ago in Families
I Love(d) You.
I miss the fact that he never got to see most of my biggest accomplishments; entering high school, graduating, becoming an adult.. or even becoming a teenager. I hated the fact that everyone got to have a father see them grow up into the young adult they always dreamt their daughter would become, while I never got a chance to have that.
By 'Lissa Stufflestreet4 years ago in Families
