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.
Of Sound Body and Mind
The sky seemed to grieve her too. Rain fell fast as tears. The overcast sky rumbled with the beginnings of a thunderstorm, white crackling amidst all the gray. The boom of the following thunder rattled the ground. In the sea of black, the smooth wood of the bleached coffin was stark. Bright against all the monotonous dark of their clothing, the gray of the sky, and the brown of the earth beneath them.
By Adoma Asare5 years ago in Families
The Fifteenth of June
The first time he lived the day of June 15th, Peter was kicked out of his house when his dad was drunk. The old man had taken Peter’s guitar case, a half-filled backpack, and the boots by the door and tossed them out into the mud on the decrepit brown grass. Peter had been ready to throw out a punch, but he was too worried about his guitar case and the aging beauty inside. He could still remember tuning it for the first time while his mother—no cancer then—had looked on with affection in her eyes.
By Jillian Spiridon5 years ago in Families
Two Yellow Elephants
There were yellow elephants in front of her: Yes yellow. Two to be exact – a mother and her child. Instantly, our twenty first century guise rears its head at this odd, perhaps idiotic, perhaps sheer ignorance of a description that signposts these two mammals as ‘mother and child’. We scoff, our prejudice born out of the entrenched belief that feminism has been anachronistically caged though in actuality, emancipated –
By Eunice Frimpong5 years ago in Families
The Jellyfish
Hideko was not my sister’s name when she was born, but it became hers when she took it from my mama. Since then, my little sister, who I called Kinoko for her mushroom shaped head, has been a plague to our family. From ventilators to medications and hour long trips from Ogaki’s run down neighborhoods to Iwakura hospital, the cost of caring for Kinoko added up. Papa worked two jobs and with all the steroids she needed to survive, Kinoko got fatter. Still, I played with dolls and curled her hair with mama’s old curlers. She was always unaware of the rice on her face and the drool that dribbled from her lips when she got excited. I could not hate her. Bills and expenses, I could.
By Elliot Simmons5 years ago in Families
The Wrong to the Right Recipe
“Betty Anne, Betty Anne Lakeland…Time to come in for supper!!”, are the words I would hear every Sunday just as the sun was going down in time for Family dinner. Today was just another regular day like any other, or so I thought… I had always made my way back close to home, so that I’d hear Mom calling me around supper time. Today, I was just around the corner at Mrs. Tootsie’s house, the best story-telling widow of a Vietnam Veteran. Alzheimer’s had set in for Mrs. Tootsie so she was at the point in her story where her late husband, Mr. Ernest – then Sergeant Clark proposed to her just before he went off to War. Of course, I would always share the news of what we were having for Sunday dinner and she would give me recipe tips from how she used to cook just about whatever we were having. I would actually take notes and share with my Mom and she’d always say, “Betty Anne you ain’t never cooked a day in your life, what you know about good eatin’ lil girl?” I’d respond, Ma’ you just watch one day all my good tips on cooking from Mrs. Tootsie and all the other old ladies around here’s gonna make a great little cookbook and I’m gonna sell it and we’ll be rich - you watch and see!! Ma’ would give me a good ole’ country grin and Dad would call me over and say, “Princess you might have something there, you just keep on writing you hear.” I went off to wash up to have Family dinner. Tonite was lamb chops, green beans, and mash potatoes and Mom’s famous gravy which I kinda thought had a touch of Mrs. Tootsie’s gravy recipe in there but I’d let Ma’ take the credit. Just as I sat down for supper, the phone rang. Ma’ answered, and I could tell by the look on her face that it wasn’t good news. As she got real quiet, she called me over and she said, “It’s Mrs. Tootsie princess.” I responded, “Oh no Ma’, Mrs. Tootsie, is she okay?” She responded, "no she had a real bad fall and they’ve called for all the family and they don’t think she’s gonna make it honey". Suddenly, my appetite was gone and all I could do was think of all the memories that came rushing through my mind about the times with Mrs. Tootsie and all of her good stories and even better recipe tips. I went to a quiet place and I just started to read through my little black book of recipe tips, but only the ones that I’d gotten from Mrs. Tootsie. For every one of her recipes, it was dated Sunday dinner and with the menu. Before I knew it, I realized I had a complete cookbook of priceless recipes that Mrs. Tootsie probably didn’t remember giving me due to dementia. As I turned midways, the book, there lied a recipe that Mrs. Tootsie had told me to keep near and dear, as it had passed through many generations in her family and she had wanted me to cook it when I grew old enough to have my own children and Family. She actually called it, their ‘million dollar recipe’ and I had forgotten all about it. This made me smile and so I went back to the kitchen where Ma’ sat crying, as she looked up at me and said, “she’s gone Betty Anne, Mrs. Tootsie’s gone darlin' and what’s worse the Family can’t afford the funeral costs, it’s so sad” As Ma’ sobbed, I rubbed her shoulders and we both wept together for a little while and then I said, “hey Ma’ I have a great idea. I know everyone is sad about Mrs. Tootsie’s passing but I think I might have a way to raise the money for her funeral costs.” Ma’ looked up at me in amazement with her eyes wide and says, “Betty Anne baby funerals are very expensive and they need the money right away what could we possibly do?” I said, “Well Ma’ you remember I told you I was working on a recipe book?” She said, “yes, I remember Betty Anne” I said, “Ma’ Mrs. Tootsie gave me a ‘million dollar recipe’.” Ma’ says, “let me see.” I showed her Mrs. Tootsie’s Golden Rolls recipe for what she also called the most amazing bread recipe that would put any country kitchen out of business in town. My Ma’ then calls up Mrs. Tootsie’s eldest daughter and tells her about the recipe book. To Ma’s amazement, her daughter shouted through the roof over the phone and says my Mom always raved about that Golden Rolls recipe but never told anyone about it and said she was sworn to secrecy so she’s the only one that could bake it. She explained when Mrs. Tootsie came down with Alzheimer’s her memory just didn’t serve her to remember much anymore and she barely knew her children’s names. Mrs. Tootsie’s daughter goes on to say, I know a restaurant that would pay good money for that recipe and we would have enough to cover the funeral costs! Betty Anne Lakeland your little black book of recipes may have saved the day, she shouted. In that instant, we called down to the Magellan Patisserie and talked to the owner, Bob. He said I’ll front you $5000 for the recipe and pay you $20,000 to take it off your hands. He also offered to buy my entire black book, but I was hesitant and rightfully so as my Dad halted the deal at just the Golden Rolls recipe and I can think of ‘a million’ reasons why. For now though, my little black book has saved the day!!
By JACQUELINE WIGFALL5 years ago in Families
House of shadows
The bright sun shadowed the old house, with its dark red bricks brown against the cloudless blue sky. The hot atmosphere had a heavy presence on the shoulders and was uncomfortable against the sticky skin of those who adventured outside. Heloise sheltered her eyes before glancing at her childhood home.
By Alice Hypnos5 years ago in Families
The Encounter
It’s raining at my parent’s graveside funeral. The sky is dark, and my heart can relate to the state of the weather. The pitter-patter of the raindrops pounding the crowd of black umbrellas matched the pulse of my Aunt’s wrist. My cold fingers were wrapped around her wrist in an attempt to comfort her. She’s trembling from the wind whipping past our faces, and the tears that I’ve been streaming from her puffy, red eyes since we were in the limo. She hides her eyes with big black shades, as if they were there to hide her sorrow, and cover her tears from rays of pain. I’ve never been to a funeral before, and I didn’t think I would have to attend a double funeral, let alone my own parents.
By Iman Drakeford5 years ago in Families
Driving West at Sunset
Sabrina carried the box from the nursing home to her car and set it down on the passenger seat. She held a hand protectively in front of it as she drove, bracing it like a small child that might slide onto the floor if she took a corner too fast. When she arrived at her father’s empty apartment, she sat idling in the old Buick, the left blinker still clicking loudly.
By Julie Kennedy5 years ago in Families
