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.
Another Office
Tick, tock, tick, tock. The clock on the wall of the waiting room makes a chiming sound every second, driving me crazy. As I stare at the black second hand I wonder if the people who work here grow tired of hearing it all the time. I’m already tired of listening to it and I’ve only been sitting here for 15 minutes. I can only see the brown hair on the very top of the receptionist’s head because the counter blocks most of my view but she is sitting right below the clock. I don’t know how she stands sitting there forty hours a week with that chiming noise going off every second.
By Lizzy McMahon5 years ago in Families
Home
Sasha groaned as she gingerly lifted her head out of the awkward position she had fallen asleep in. She gently peeled her hand from the page it was pressed into, careful not to damage her grandfather’s delicate old journal. It was one of several small black notebooks she had found stacked in a corner of his library after his funeral. Sasha still couldn’t believe he was dead. It felt like the universe had chosen to twist the knife one last time, just for fun. Her mom, dad, and two sisters had been gone for ten years now, and her grandfather had been the only family she had left. Ironically, she’d only met him after she’d lost the rest of her family.
By Colleen Williams5 years ago in Families
Studio Audience
As they lower your mother into the ground your attention is caught by something else. You shouldn’t allow this to happen. Your mother, barely elderly has died suddenly in a way that still leaves you with questions. But you are drawn to the sight of your wife at the corner of your eye. She stands beside you in a flowing gray dress that is almost nearly white. You watch her toss a rose onto your mother’s coffin with the same grace she does everything else. You can picture her pushing a metal cart down the aisles of the local grocery store wearing that same dress. You wonder why of all things she chose to wear it. Finally, you stop wondering only to begin fixating. On her, the dress, the open-toed heels, the fact that she despised your mother—the sharp manicured nails that pinch your palm when she reaches for your hand. You take her hand because you don’t want to offend her. While you were beside yourself with grief, your wife, who scares you sometimes, organized your mother’s funeral in a heartbeat.
By Jesula Damas5 years ago in Families
The Mosaic of Shadows and Sun
My world is shrouded in darkness. A peaceful darkness. I feel the bass pumping from my headphones and spreading throughout my entire body. The pounding of the music chasing away all the unwanted thoughts that cloud my head. If only all of life’s problems were this easy to solve; just stick on some headphones, turn the volume to max, close your eyes, and just like that, all the things in your head start to disappear. Leaving only the music.
By Brooklynn Renfrow5 years ago in Families
Abuelita's Little Black Book
The echoes my aunt singing my grandmother’s favorite song ringed in my ears as I prepared to round up the bit of energy I had left to get up and share a few words. Fidgeting with a now unrecognizable little looped libreta, I begin to doubt whether to share this poem with everyone. I am always carrying around a little notepad, you could say I take after my grandmother. I was not planning on saying anything during the burial but the ride over to her final resting place, this familiar warmth came over me and the words just spilled out. Before I knew it, the padre was asking us if anyone else wanted to share their last parting words to Estefana Maria.
By Emely espinoza5 years ago in Families
The 5 Stages
Life was too much for him. I understood that. In only a few short years, he’d lost his wife to cancer, his job to a millennial, his house to foreclosure, and worst – his dignity. Most evenings after work, I’d meet him at his favorite bar. He’d already have his Crown on the rocks and a Miller Lite by the time I arrived. I’d have a margarita usually, from the frozen machine. It wasn’t the kind of bar from which to expect a salt-rimmed beverage in a fancy glass. On Tuesdays, we’d have dollar tacos. Fridays, catfish. Most other days, fried chicken wings with French fries.
By Kristina B5 years ago in Families
Out of Amaka's Head
As a child growing up in Nigeria, I was always fighting to survive; first to survive the home and then to survive all the other cards that society has dealt against me. Thankfully, I grew up in a well to do household so the sights seemed clearer than most, but money can only do so much because problems will always exist in life.
By Ashley Abah5 years ago in Families
Prince Harming
Two years had passed since Leski’s father lost his fight with colon cancer. She was still devastated by the sudden loss which seemed to consume her every thought. Even minor movement to scratch her arm felt like it exhausted any ounce of energy she tried to gather to move on with life. Move on. The concept of moving on from her father’s death was foreign to her. This wasn’t the first time Leski experienced loss though. She was well acquainted with coping in spite of grief. She overcame the sorrow from various failed relationships, being laid-off from a job she loved, and making the kind decision to end the life of her beloved cat, Moles, whose less than nine lives also battled cancer. Leski was surrounded by friends and family who showed how much they loved her on a regular basis, but no one’s best gesture could compare to the devotion her father showed her in his role as a parent. Her fondest memory was her dad calling her every Monday morning before her alarm buzzed in annoyance. He would remind her that life was full of possibility and she had the power to manifest her dreams. He always encouraged her to remain optimistic, focus on solutions instead of problems, and find the lesson in failures. After 36 years of her father’s influence and guidance, she developed a strong foundation of self-worth and kindness towards others. In all the ways Leski’s father showed love to her and others in the community, she never expected someone so strong would physically deteriorate right before her eyes. She was thankful to have so many great memories to reflect on, but his absence was a void she could not fill. Self-help books littered her bedroom floor, her voicemail box reached its maximum capacity for messages, and an abundance of text messages were ignored. Grief became a constant friend who understood her pain and kept her a prisoner in a cell of heartache.
By Maribel Bonilla5 years ago in Families
The Last of the Chianti
The Last of the Chianti Phoebe Jones pulled off the Pacific Highway at the Laguna Beach exit. On her left, the last light of the day slipped beyond the horizon and she raced the thin strip of sunset along the coast to her father’s house. As she pulled into the large drive, her father’s dogs, a Rottweiler and a husky, came running to the car, barking and leaping up on the door. She fought her way out and started laughing as they recognised her and joyfully tried to knock her over.
By Freyja Seren5 years ago in Families
