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.
What's the Price for Your Precious Moments?
Everyone knows you can't put a price on life's moments, but we have a habit of letting them slip by anyway. With today's busy schedule and need to pay bills, we find ourselves on auto pilot and miss out on the simple things. More importantly life's most precious and priceless moments.
By Shawna Williamson 6 years ago in Families
Just Breathing
I am sitting in the same spot where you took your last breath with tears streaming down my face. I should not be here alone. You should be here next to me. Breathing. Just breathing. Not hooked up to an oxygen tank or to tubes with chemo flowing through. Just breathing. I begin to think about all the memories we shared in the short amount of time I got to spend with you, all the wise words you had said, all the hugs you gave, and all of the truths you had instilled in me since I was young. You supported me in everything I did. You always cheered me on.
By Loren Abell6 years ago in Families
Synchrodestiny
Girgle...Girgle..Girgle.....it was the 10th of April 2004...the four of us lay on the floor of our roof top home sleeping....he wanted to make love to me...while I nursed our youngest daughter Sanjukta and our elder daughter pretended to sleep fidgeting all the while...."Mama, look something is coming out of daddy's mouth" I turned to see what she was pointing at..it was my husband Shivaji....eyes rolling back and face turning blue....I did not know what to do ..but thought fast so that Sanjana my elder girl could go get some help...." Take your sister with you , I said .....Once they had gone I could feel this unexplained feeling of numbness flow over me ..I watched his eyes staring at me glazed over ..tears rolling down ..as if to say, "I am sorry" ...His hand still clenching to the the silky ribbon of my jammy bottom.....
By Jacqueline Payne6 years ago in Families
The mother I never knew...
The mother I never knew... When I was born, I had a mother she was young, Rome the streets and couldn’t take care of me as much as she should. So my grandparents stepped in and raised me. Growing up I hated my biological mom for not being there, seeing me play the drums in school, or running in Field day, or graduating from high school. I could never understand why she didn’t want me.
By Posher Chantal6 years ago in Families
We laughed at Death
My family currently consists of 14 people and counting. My grandparents had four children and from there each child had at least one to two children who then had a couple kids of their own. In a family this big, you know that losing someone is inevitable. But you don't really think of it. Each holiday and birthday we gathered in my grandmother's tiny house until it seemed it would burst at the seams. We lifted our dinner plates to dodge young ones as they rushed by in play. We yelled over to each other for conversation because crossing the sea of people and furniture seemed more ridiculous somehow. Even more exacerbating was the time we'd spend debating over celebrities, politics, movies, and more. With such a kaleidoscope of personalities, it wasn't hard to find a differing opinion. Yet when our kind and soft-spoken grandfather said "It's time to pray." the room fell silent immediately. We argued and we fought and we made sure to always get the last word but our love for grandpa trumped all of that. No argument was so important it couldn't be put away if he asked us to. No one's voice was more important than his. He listened to all of us in our time of need and thus every person whether in through blood or marriage owed this man a life debt of love and respect. We knew this pillar of our family structure would one day leave us. But when he did the shock and pain still felt fresh and sudden. My grandfather died, in his house, peacefully. He simply fell asleep and moved on. I will always be grateful for that. After he passed the family set to figure out what we would do for our sweet and devoted grandmother. She was a widow now with no source of income. We decided to put together a gofundme. We raised over $14,000 for her to completely wipe some of her debts. There had never been a more proud family with bigger smiles. We sat her down that dinning room table like it was Christmas. Asking her to check a link in her email. As she virtually unwrapped her present to see the love her community, family, and friends had shown; my aunt decided to tell a simple joke. My aunt said, "We decided to help you raise some money so we decided to sell your firstborn son." My grandmother without missing a beat and having not heard her but seen the amount of money now in her bank account looked up and said "Thank you". Her eyes watered with genuine gratitude at what we perceived was the selling of her child. My uncle's face of betrayal was hilarious. We laughed and turned it into the joke of the week. We buried my grandfather and had a visitation. All extremely hard days for the family but we had a safe harbor to go to. A joke and moment of unexpected joy that found its way to us even in this dark time. We were grieving and death had taken someone very important to us. But we are a family that learned to enjoy life from a man who never missed an opportunity to tell a joke. We met death and we laughed.
By Dylan Ritch6 years ago in Families
The Story of Zyon
On April 3rd, 2006 I received the call that the mother of my child was in labor and headed to the hospital. I was beyond excited and unlike most men from where I'm from, even at just 18 I was ready to be a great father to my son. I had been anticipating this moment for so long and been holding it in for even longer. I hadn't told anyone in my family because our relationships were not in great places. I wanted to surprise my mom on Mother’s Day with her grandchild, as crazy as it sounded, this was the way I thought I would mend the relationships and announce the new member of the Feagins family. I arrived at the hospital a little passed 7pm and as I walked into the room, I could feel an immense amount of pain in the air. She looked at me and just kept crying. As I held her, I listened to the doctor explain to me, what she had already explained to her and her family. I was in disbelieve and at the moment couldn't do anything but be strong for her. I held it in, I fought to hold it in so that I could hold her up and be her strength that she needed in this moment. She would have to deliver my sons' still born body, right now. She didn't want to hold him but something in me just thought, maybe just maybe there was life in him. Maybe, it's us. We are the family that gets to brag about the doctors producing a miracle. I held my sons' breathless body in my arms. I stared at him and in one moment pictured everything that I wanted to be able to do with him, to be able to just hear him say daddy, to go fishing, to start practicing for whatever sport he would like to do, to just sit on the couch and watch the NBA finals or the Superbowl. I would never get to have these moments. As I walked into the hallway, down to the bathroom I found my way to the stall and finally let out everything I'd held in for those 2 long hours. I held and screamed for the hurt, for the feeling of losing my child when I was there. I was there from the start and planned to be there forever. I was ready, I wasn't going to abandon my son. All of these fathers get to see their children born and never be a part of their lives, but I set here, and I planned to be the best father I could be and failed before I ever got the chance to start. It's been 14 years now since that day and It doesn’t seem to get any easier thinking about it. At some point I look at my sons and I see all the characteristics that Zyon would’ve had. I see his smile in them, I see is athletic ability in them, I see his sense of humor in them. Sometimes I find myself even with teenagers, standing in the doorway of their rooms and watching them sleep. Wondering what they are dreaming about, what fears they have and what they want to achieve in this World. Zyon took a breath I was told, so for 3 seconds, he was alive. Maybe that’s the miracle, the three seconds of life was enough for my three sons, Tyrese, Keyshawn and Deondre to have a part of him. But you never get over the loss of a child, you survive, you get up and life eventually continues with some sort of normal energy, but you're never okay. Never. Zyon your story lives and breathes within your brothers every day.
By DC Feagins6 years ago in Families
