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.
Paid In Full (Unabridged)
Water drips off of overhead pipes onto a nearby furnace vent, sending puffs of steam out the window overlooking an alley full of honking horns, with the smell of food being hustled between by-passers. Drip. Hiss. Drip. Hiss. Thud. Buzzzz. A door slams and electric lights flicker on. Kyla hears Bridger, a friend of her fathers, open the shop downstairs. Voices speaking of his new wares quickly ensue. Luckily, Bridger had the sense to move shop and leave their hometown before it was too late.
By Shakanna Lauer5 years ago in Families
The hand of trust
All my life I waited and wanted to feel the love from my mother. I just needed more time to make that happen and surprisingly it came. I took a photo of our hands joined together because this is what I always wanted. Now I have her trust, the love of my mother I always dreamed of.
By Keila Martin5 years ago in Families
The Wisdom of Morgues and Delis
I have heard people say all they ever really needed to know is what they learned in kindergarten. Nope. I don’t think kindergarten lessons can hold a candle to what I learned over a dead body or a pastrami on rye with a pickle. I actually never attended kindergarten - it was a half day type thing and my mother wanted me out of the house at least till 3 PM, so that was out. But I can say that the countless hours I have spent in morgues and delis have been the height of enlightenment.
By Rosanna Pittella5 years ago in Families
A piece of my mind
I didn’t necessarily know my dad very well . But I had this sense that I just knew his whole life and what he did throughout it. I have little memories of him from my childhood that are scattered into bits and pieces like broken glass from a mirror I couldn’t see myself in. But I do have this one specific memory that’s stuck in my brain of the nickname ladybug. But I have also heard stories about him. It seems like I’ve heard thousands of those stories and they sort of make me feel like they’re my memories too! like if I was there seeing it all. I see People on Facebook posting things about him , And saying how they miss him and they hope that me and my brother are okay . But I’ve never met these people in my life so I scroll past and say aww . People usually ask me “do you want to talk about it?” . And I usually say that I don’t. And that’s because I’d rather not. even though of course I miss him And I wish that we had more time together. But talking about it actually makes me sort of uncomfortable. I’ve always liked to have my thoughts alone . I like to be alone and to think about things by myself. Me and my brother are the same way. I do appreciate the “it’s okay” or the “you’ll be okay” but I know that already . But it is a bit weird how people from my dad’s side sort of just walk into my life whenever they want without a warning that they even existed. I guess they could try now since I don’t remember from when I was younger. They don’t speak to me often but then they pop up and buy me gifts randomly. They stop again then re surface like and old picture memory in your camera roll and ask what you want for Christmas or your birthday. My birthday has always been the time where most people text me and give me gifts. I’m going to be 14 soon . That means it’s almost 9 years since i have lost my father. I was 5 . I think about how sad it is every now and then. So I’ll cry alone in my room late at night while my restless mom thinks I’m asleep, I don’t want to make her think somethings wrong so I lay down and “sleep” but really I’m Laying awake in my bed starring into the black whole that is just my ceiling in the dark . I’ve had about 3 or 2 dreams with my dad when I do sleep . That’s sort of it tho. I do hear my moms side of the family talk every while about how godly he was and how great he has was towards everyone. it’s always a different story from each person, Or a different point of view. I find it fascinating how many stories people can remember and tell me. People still ask me how I’m doing or how I’m dealing with it, And when friends ask me about my parents I tell them my father died and they say they’re sorry like it was they’re fault.But I do always politely say it’s fine. It really is tho, even though sometimes it feels unfair that my kids won’t have a grandfather, or that I won’t have him to walk me down the isle at my wedding when im grown, or that he will never be able to scare off my boyfriend’s and sometimes I feel like I’m not fine. don’t worry tho, dad’s little ladybug is okay.
By Izzabella Smyth5 years ago in Families
You Can't Hide Forever
It’s interesting how four-hours can feel like a lifetime. I watch Maggie trail ahead of me in the snow, thinking of ways to break the news. News that will break her heart, and I don’t know exactly how to do that to my only sister. Not only is Maggie my only sister, but she’s also my best friend. I remember in great detail the first time we ever trekked up to the family cabin. It was summer and we were both still in elementary school. We stopped at every lake we passed, jumped in together, and splashed around with no care in the world. We would look back and smile at our parents, trying to convince them to jump in, too. But they always just sat there at the edge of the water, holding each other’s hands and waving at us. In the winter, we would snowshoe up and ski down. Before we could ski, we sled and laughed ourselves into crying every time we crashed into the fluffy white snow. It was a simpler time and if we could go back to our past lives, I would take that opportunity in an instant.
By Jessie Sears5 years ago in Families
An Unbreakable Bond
Caroline wore black in the winter. She mourned her beloved great grandfather, who had just recently passed. A lifetime of wisdom, memories and a great deal of belongings left behind. Shortly after his passing, Caroline was put in charge by her family to go to her great grandfather's home and sort out his personal affects, left to decide which items fell under the categories: keep, throw away, or donate. That was simple enough. Caroline had always been one to take on a tedious project. She'd worked clerical jobs most her life and was often found doing research on various topics for recreation in her leisure, spending more time in the nonfiction section of the library than anywhere else. As Caroline entered her great grandfather's 1910s built home, there was a weight in the air. Standing still for a moment she inhaled the must of old books and the smell of the earthy wooden walls that surrounded her, eyes fixated on dust particles suspended weightlessly in a beam of sunlight coming from a nearby window. She exhaled, squeezed her great grandfather's old, iron house key in the palm of her cold hands and closed the door behind her. Venturing further into his house she made her way to his office that contained towering stacks of boxes filled with old files, piles of unevenly placed papers, scrapbooks, photographs and the like. Unfinished projects had already begun to form dust. She meticulously examined the pages of each document, before moving onto his books. He had always had such an impressive collection. The personal library in his home office donned a hand carved mahogany bookcase that spanned from floor to ceiling, containing weathered hardcover literary classics, philosophical texts and rare collections of Shakespeare's works. This is where Caroline first fell in love with reading. Fond memories she hadn't recollected since her youth, all at once, flooded back to her. As a girl, she'd sit cross legged at the foot of that skyscraping bookshelf and read for hours, tuning out the sound of laughter from her siblings playing just outside of those very walls.
By Taylor Oliver5 years ago in Families
Dream it Forward
Mr. and Mrs. Ives lived in a small town in rural Georgia. The couple had been high school sweethearts, married right after graduation, and have been together for over 60 years. They were the ideal marriage everyone hopes for. The couple worked hard to make a good life for themselves and their three children. Now grown with their own careers and spouses scattered about the country, the Ives’ got to enjoy their retirement on their front porch sipping sweet tea.
By Paige Chalmers5 years ago in Families
