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.
There is always a crack in everything.
The air was heavy this July. The neighborhood felt as if it were in slow motion. Rosa’s front door was covered in a beaded condensation that formed small trickling waterfalls down the outside wood. Protruding, laminated flyers for the car wash down the street, acted as cups to host little pools where fairies might go to get cool. A cream colored letter hung from the slot in the door, its corners moving up and down, up and down with the breeze outside. A small tear on its end, showed signs of being mishandled - forced through the letter slit angrily like an unwanted home truth. Two leaflets for the Sunday market down the street, and the chicken shop’s discount menu, sandwiched it just enough to keep its form in tact.
By Adrianna Vasquez5 years ago in Families
The Last Act
The Last Act A frigid December morning, the sun was exceptionally bright outside my window, yet my eyes and mind are still closed to what the day would bring. I had a little too much to drink last night, my body refused to move. Just need ten more minutes, hospice will be pulling up to deliver the hospital bed for the gentleman next door. I promised I would help him get situated. I said aloud, get up, get up, Jesus help me, I am not ready. Every waking moment it starts, rolling, reeling, he is dying, Did the alcohol really help me cope? Forget he is dying, forget today could be his last day, forget he can’t walk. Praying for a calm, pain free day is ultimately washed away with the certainty he is dying. Please not today, we all die, I need more time.
By Amber D. Coughlin5 years ago in Families
The Legacy
1. The Will I exited the lawyer’s office quickly, whisking myself out of my chair at the back of the oak-walled room and striding ahead of Father to avoid any talk, or, more likely, criticism. “See I told you that she wouldn't leave you anything, you are a disappointment to both of us”, Father shouted after me. I did not need to turn around to know the slow, cruel smirk which would be growing across his sagged face. Mother was gone and finally free of him, and that gave me strength, stopping myself from any sign of a tear. It was a tragedy that it took death for her to escape.
By Deborah Williams5 years ago in Families
Burden Upon Inheritance
“Crocodile tears.” I thought as I watched my stepmother, Rose Vincent, cry over my father’s open casket. She was very obviously a gold digger but dear old dad was too blind to see her for what she was, a money-sucking parasite. As I walked over to pay my final respects a hand tugged at my sleeve I whipped around already furious at my father’s death. Not to my surprise, it was Marc, my friend since birth and my only ally since my father remarried. "Cora..." he started but never finished I pulled him into a hug, fast, as for him to not see me cry. "It's going to be alright okay?" he said softly "and hey since he can't pay for Rose's 2 sizes to small corsets and petticoats she'll probably scamper back into whatever cave she crawled out of." a small ha was all I was able to get out. As church bells rang overhead, Marc and everyone headed into the church for the will reading and I followed close behind.
By avaleigh price5 years ago in Families
Letters to Kobe
Dear Kobe, Though you are apart from us, you continue to be amazing. You are glorious. You are righteous. For a huge part of my life, you have served the purpose of instilling faith in me. The faith I needed to help me believe in my own abilities— to rise against the norms and fight with a greater purpose. A purpose to succeed in a life that society has not made valuable for you and I.
By teva jenkins5 years ago in Families
Diary of always
21st February, 2021 $20,000. $20,000! Fuck. I didn’t know you even had that kind of money. Whenever we daydreamed together - you in your chair, me on the floor - fantasizing about how our lives might look if we came into a chunk of it, we’d always end our conversations in the same way; my pithy one-liner, your solemn disclaimer:
By Joseph Hughes5 years ago in Families
Old Fashioned
"Shirley Temple on ice with ginger ale, please." Ally whispered loudly to the waitress as she looked around. She didn't want her sister to know she quit drinking, again. The facade of her look alike old fashioned bourbon was comforting. Quarantine day drinking had finally gotten to her. Without alcohol, she was a dry drunk. Twelve step emotional sobriety was too much work. If not for anger and resentments, she wouldn't have fuel to get through the day. After losing her job there was no one left to be mad at but herself. She had a strong urge for a drink and to be out of the house.
By Ellen M. Holtzman, DTM5 years ago in Families
The Black Butterfly
Living My Truth was beginning to become my daily norm, despite all the backlash I've gotten from my family. Was I the cause of the mix-up the filled drama and constant arguments? I couldn't figure out what to do with the fact that I'm going to finally come face to face with my enemy someone I've never seen before but constantly kept putting images together. See I was adopted and I didn’t find out the truth until this year when my mother suddenly passed away it put a real damper on the family especially me. The hurt I experienced was a hurt I’ve never felt so deep as if I was running through a rose bush full of thorns dark and cold , rough & fierce. As the saltwater tears of sadness streamed down my cold cheeks I whimpered in silence wishing I could hold her and feel the warmth of her body next to my young motherless body. Yes motherless I didn't have a mother anymore and even though I had my father I really didn't have him, we found out three years ago he was diagnosed with cancer and it was beginning to eat at his brain cells. Sometimes he knows me and sometimes he doesn't it was a hit and miss but he's all I have now. Between me and my siblings we didn't have the best relationship, everyone grieves different and do I mean differently. Me being the youngest and also the black sheep is what's gotten me to let out my untold truth the mystery, the guilt and sadness behind “The Black Butterfly”
By Sheree Harris-Brown5 years ago in Families
