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.
Charcoal
“His skin was black as charcoal”—that's what my Mom used to say about my brother, I was light skinned compared to him, which was funny because I really wasn't that light skinned, but standing next to him you could see a difference. His nose was broad and strong. He reminded me of those warriors my dad showed us in his comics. His eyes were a beautiful dark brown and his teeth white and pearly, almost perfect.
By Valor Gosch7 years ago in Families
If Only
If only… I had been there a moment sooner. It’s my fault, there’s nothing that can be done now. Her lifeless body dangles effortlessly from the noose that creaks from time to time. You can see the cut she made in her throat with the knife that now lays on the ground. The noose obviously was too slow for her and she wanted a quicker death. My eyes meet hers as I stare into her empty vessel. I wonder what it’s like to see your empty body while you float away to a paradise beyond imaginable. The only thing I want for my sister is for her to be in a better place. She was suffering from major depression, but this wasn’t the way for her to die. Out of the many ways to end her life here on Earth, she chose to kill herself. I break my stare and I look down at the ground. It’s too much to bear. Water starts forming on the inner corners of my vibrant blue eyes. Choking down the screams that want to escape; I collapse onto my knees. It’s getting harder to breathe, everything is blurry. My pants are getting drenched, but in what? My eyes venture to my curiosity of the wetness I am feeling on my legs. Red… all I see is red. Then it hit me… I’m sitting in my sister’s blood. Fear floods my brain, but I’m paralyzed, I am too stunned to move. Everything I have kept bottled up inside me now rushes out of me like a dam that has just been open. My blood curdling screams fill the empty room. Over and over, my hands pound the ground, making the blood splash all over me. Tears fall to the ground.
By Chantell Schulz7 years ago in Families
My Journey of Loss
There is no real secret to it, and everyone deals with it in a different way. But at the end of the day, everyone has or will have to go through this heartbreaking journey. I still am. It will almost be a year since my grandma had passed away. Not a day goes by in which she doesn't cross my mind. June 22nd, two days before my birthday too. What I'm going to say is obviously not universal. Again, these tips may or may not work, it all depends on the individual. However, if I'm being honest, I wish I knew this during the first few days of feeling the true feeling of loss.
By Stefania Enriquez7 years ago in Families
Grief Is a Funny Thing
Ten things losing my mum taught me: Grief is a horrible and wonderful thing. Now I get it, ‘how can grief be wonderful?’ without watching my lovely mum slowly fade into nothingness, I wouldn’t appreciate her the way I do now. I wouldn’t grasp so tightly onto the memories we have the way I do now, I wouldn’t be able to look back, and see just how proud she was of me the way I do now. The big c word ripped my mum out of my arms, and swallowed her up into the void that is—well i'm not to sure what it is—but I tell myself it’s something lovely. It allowed me to appreciate just how amazing she was. It opened my eyes to the hard decisions she made that were for mine and my sister's benefit; it taught me the bittersweet side of love. I wouldn’t be as tuned into my body and my mind the way I am now. Currently, when I feel something, I embrace it. Now whether that be sadness, anger, hunger. I embrace the fact that I can feel, and that my body needs something in order to thrive. After losing my mum, it brought me to the realisation that not all the people around me are having a positive impact on my life, no matter how much I tell myself they are. It allowed me to address things I’ve been ignoring for such a long time. Some people just don’t care. Sure they say ‘I’m always here’, or some just don’t bother to message you at all, at least then people let you know where you stand. Life is short, and mean, and amazing all at the same time. Going through such a hard time highlights the gems that are scattered through your life. It highlights just how important they are to you, and how much more you should cherish them. It allowed me to cut ties I never knew I had, and strengthen the ones that matter Milestones just aren’t important any more. Birthdays, Christmas, even Saturdays aren’t as important anymore. Every hour blurs into another, every day of the week seems as one, every week slowly turns into a year. It all just seems to be coated in some cloudy haze that blinds you. Christmas morning isn’t the same when you don’t have the one you love the most. What’s the point in celebrating a birthday if you can’t celebrate with the person who gave you life? Saturday mornings are made for coffee dates with my loving family. Everything seems to have a gaping hole in them. Nothing is ever the same when you miss someone. Holding onto something you never believed in is totally normal. I personally never really got the thing with “mediums,” or whatever. But when you lose someone, and someone has a way of communication, it becomes a life line. Hearing someone talking on behalf of my mum, whether that be real, or a total load of bollocks, it’s a way of coping. Hearing they’re ok, they’re looking after you, and that they’re no longer in pain. It’s something you welcome with open arms. There’s no such thing as moving on. When I talk about my mum, I slip so easily into present tense, and that’s ok. My mum still is. She lives on through every member of my family. I will never get over the death of my mum, and once again, that is ok. Her life, and love, and death has forced me to see things from a different perspective. That things do get easier. Grief is something that tries to take over my life, and pull me down the slippery slope into the abyss of sadness, forcing me to believe that the light at the end of the tunnel isn’t there. Grief migrates itself into my everyday life, I can, and will be happy, and mind numbingly sad at the same time. And that is ok. Grief isn’t linear. Everyone says there’s five stages of grief, but it doesn’t follow a strict and orderly line. It changes form and shape as it pleases, and offers nothing in return. One day you're angry, the next you're sad, and then everything seems fine. But grief has a tight grip around my throat, getting tighter and tighter when I’m not noticing. Grief isn’t life threatening or fatal, but sometimes it feels like it is. I am much stronger than I ever believed. Funnily enough that’s something my mum has been telling me for 19 years. And I finally believe her. Pain is a temporary thing, but it feels like it isn’t. This month marks the tenth month without my mum. Bit by bit, day by day, things do get better. Now when I say better, I mean you learn to live with it, you learn to not let it take over your world. The light at the end of the tunnel is close, and it is real. There are moments of happiness and calm in even the worst storms. Learn to laugh and cry in the same breath. And finally, the last thing losing my mum taught me, is that the feeling of getting a text, and hoping it’s from her will never go. The hope that the next person to walk through the door will be her, will never go. The image imprinted in my brain of her walking me down the aisle, or meeting my baby, or seeing all my milestones in life will never go. But I know she is always next to me, every step of the way, cheering me on from wherever it is that she is. I know she loved me more than life itself, and I know I have to make her proud.
By Eloise Morin7 years ago in Families
My Friend
My brother, he was my friend, my protector, father figure. When I lost him it felt like I lost everything, he passed away in September 2017. That day was the worst time of my life, it’s like I felt it. I felt it was coming, something inside me kept saying his name as I sat at my desk. I looked at his picture and just smiled. My mom called in the frantic, most hysterical mood that I have ever heard. All I remember are the words, “Marvin, your brother, my baby... gone."
By Drea Williams7 years ago in Families
Only the Strongest Survive
Imagine waking up in a three bedroom home, with two older brothers and two older sisters. That was my life when I was enjoying my adolescent years. My brothers were always out and about, as well as my sisters. Being the baby of the family was pretty chill... but it gets pretty lonely even though we had both parents in the home I still felt a bit, lonesome, if I can say.
By Isaiah Blount7 years ago in Families
The Ghost of Mother's Day Past...
I'm awakened by the sounds of my brothers fussing over cereal and Saturday morning cartoons. I have to get dressed. I moaned, pulling myself out of bed. Today I'm going downtown to the 5 and 10 to buy my mom a gift for Mother's Day. I saved every penny, nickel, and dime to get her something. I loved my mom, I was the only girl among four brothers. She was so beautiful, small and petite. But her laughter could fill a room. See, some days she would be sad. On those days, she would just sit and stare out the window, smoking cigarettes and humming some inaudible tune. Other days, well, she laughed and drank with her girlfriends. She made dinner, cleaned the house. She might even play cards with us, Gin Rummy. My father worked out of town with a Persian Rug and Artifacts Dealer, so he would be away months at a time. My brothers and I loved when he would return... arms loaded with toys and treats. Beautiful trinkets and jewelry for mom. So I have to get her something special, my dad won't be able to make it in time to celebrate Mother's Day tomorrow. I don't want to see her sad, not on Mother's Day.
By Rosemary Roundtree7 years ago in Families
Everyone Is Dying!!
Since I was a little girl I can remember seeing my grandma wearing a beautiful red wig, doing her makeup and putting on her hot red lipstick getting ready to go to work at the hospital. I can also remember being startled because under that beautiful red wig was a perfectly round bald head. I remember her being a strong fierce woman who was fighting for her life, all while helping her daughters with babysitting her grandchildren on her days off, participating in the church events, attending her grandchildren’s events at school, keeping a very tidy house, and still cooking her amazing dinners, especially the ones on Sunday after church services and she held down working a full time job as a nurse.
By Kagan Clagg7 years ago in Families
