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.

The Other Side
"I didn't have enough time," the man said to the other. "We all have enough time," said the man behind the desk. "You just chose to use yours differently."
By Sidra Lestrade8 years ago in Families
Advice From a Motherless Daughter
I'll never forget the day I was in the hospital room as my mother's doctor explained to her the severity of her cancer diagnosis as well as the very small odds of surviving such an intense and advanced form. I was only 17 and my mother was only 42. By looking at my mother, how much effort she put into everyday and raising six children, you would have never guessed she was sick. In fact, I think she was surprised as she only went to the doctor with a pain in her right side. It was colon cancer, stage IV, that had spread to her liver. The doctors seemed genuinely surprised as colon cancer is usually found in older patients. But, no matter how rare the situation, my mother was one of the unlucky few and I knew I was probably going to lose my mother and soon. My mother passed away a year later, shortly after my senior graduation and suddenly, the world turned into an unfamiliar place, one I didn't know if I would ever come to terms with. I'm going to start this with my advice to those who have lost their mothers and then to those who have not. I feel like both sides are equally important and may, hopefully, be helpful to someone.
By Kasey Gilbert8 years ago in Families
Forever Goodbye
I sit staring at the pale whitewashed wall, with a transparent plastic container holding pamphlets. I look down at the screen on my black iPhone 3. I see the red box with a number "5" hovering over the blue Facebook application button. I click the button and read my status from earlier: “What do you think we’re having, boy or girl? Today’s the day!” I scroll down the screen and read all the responses: “boy,” “girl,” “twins.” Everyone is excited to find out. I hear a familiar friendly voice call out “Rachel.” I get up and walk towards the slim, blonde nurse wearing blue scrubs. As I walk through the waiting room, I notice the usual: people talking, phones ringing, and the daily routines of everyone in the room. After all my vitals are checked, I’m placed in my room. It’s in the corner beside the doctor’s office, with a big gray door and the words “Exam Room 3” on a plaque right in the top middle of the door. I sit on the exam table; in my mind I’m going over all the questions I have been wanting to ask: "Should I feel this nauseous?" "Is my stomach growing enough?" "Is it weird that all I want to eat are lemons?" I can hear muffled conversation through the walls, then a gentle knock, knock on my door. My doctor walks in the room. She tells me to lie back on the table, and then I hear the plastic tube squeeze as I hold my shirt above my belly. I feel the cold slimy gel on my stomach, and then the pressure of the Doppler wand as it glides around my protruding stomach. Then I hear it, the sweetest sound, thump, thump and again thump, thump. My mind goes blank and I enjoy the sound of the little fluttering heartbeat. I forget about my questions and just feel the butterflies dancing in my stomach. My doctor then tells me it’s time. I walk down the wide hall, stepping on different colored carpet squares. Once I’m in the ultrasound room, my eyes try to adjust to the lack of light. I feel the cold chill down my spine, but none of it matters. I’m about to see my beautiful baby on the monitor. This time the slimy gel is warm and again I feel the pressure of the wand moving all around my belly. Suddenly, the technician looks at me with worried eyes and says, “There seems to be low fluid. I’ll have to talk to the doctor.” I’m placed back into my room, and I wait. My doctor rushes in and looks at me, then says, “You’re going to want your husband here.” She tells me a quick description of what is wrong, “Your baby has no kidneys. Your baby won’t be able to survive. I’ll make an appointment for you in Little Rock. They will be able to give you termination options.” All at once, I am unable to breathe. I’m paralyzed. Everything is silent, and her mouth is still moving, but I can’t hear anything she says. All I can hear is my heart beating faster. All I feel is my stomach twisted. All the butterflies were gone and replaced with an aching pain. The experience of losing my daughter and the days I survived, from finding out to saying goodbye, changed me as a wife, mother, and person.
By Rachel B8 years ago in Families
The Phone Call I Dreaded Answering
"So, How Are You?" Oh shit, is it 1 am already? Mom usually gets home around now after visiting Bibi (my grandma) and she will probably kill me if she knew I stayed up this long but hey, this essay isn't gonna write itself! Bibi seemed better tonight, she managed to whisper out "I love you" before I left for the first time in months so that must be a good sign. Will's probably tired. You know, I said I'd take the bus home but for some reason they don't trust a teenager on the bus by herself past 10 pm! The hospital's not that far though so I'm sure he doesn't mind driving us back and forth in the cold... and the dark...
By Ghezal Amiri8 years ago in Families
Daddy's Little Girl
I’m just a boot wearing, horse riding, deer hunting, truck driving, cute little old country gal. I may look city on the outside, but on the inside, I'm country all the way. I am a sassy talking, Pepsi drinking, deer eating, blue jean wearing, big truck riding kinda country loving girl!
By josh napper8 years ago in Families
The Day My Heart Broke Forever
I remember the day it all happened, just like it was yesterday. Just days before I got that call, "Jessy your brother is in the hospital." "He is very sick you need to come see him." So I called my dad so he could take me as soon as I got home. We made the long drive to the children's hospital, as we parked I had this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. But I walked towards his room down the longest hallway of my life. Nothing prepared me for the feeling I would have the moment I stepped in that room. There he was, my brother and best friend laying in a bed. He was covered in wires, a breathing mask and so many machines all around him. I completely fell apart the moment I saw him like that. See, my brother was the kind of person who was always smiling and happy. He loved to do whatever he could to make other people laugh and in that moment I didn't see any of that in him. So, after I composed myself I went over to talk to him and for the first time in what felt like years, he smiled at me. Which made me giggle and cry a little again. I spent as long as I could with him that day by his side talking to him, giving him sips of water and laughing at things. Later that night I was in my bed just hoping and wishing that my brother wouldn't be taken from us. I went to school in a fog I was so worried about him, and honestly I'd rather be by his side. By the end of the school day I got another call from my mom saying he was doing better. My heart was so happy that it could've burst from my chest. I spent the rest of that day and night in the happiest mood I had been in a very long time. That happiness spilled over into the next day, I went to school and was ready to tackle the day. The first class of my day went by so fast, so I had moved onto math class. On this particular day, we were taking a test and in the middle our teacher's phone rang. She answered it, we couldn't hear what was said but when she looked at me I knew it was for me. I felt close to this teacher, so she did know about my brother and what was going on. I tried to finish that test but it was very hard. So I just rushed, putting down anything. I got up, walked my test to her desk and that's when she said they need you in the office. She was clearly trying to hide the sadness for me but I could still see it. I gathered up all my stuff to walk to the office and was hoping I wasn't right about why. I stepped around the corner to see my dad standing with the guidance counselor. They were all looking at me with this expression that I can't exactly explain. But I can explain in that moment my heart broke into a thousands pieces and would never be the same again. I didn't know what to do or how to handle that he was gone. We were never gonna play a game together again, never would we laugh or enjoy a horror movie together again. I walked up to my dad and just collapsed, my legs no longer wanted to work. In that moment just wanted to stay were I was. Eventually, my dad drove me home; the school gave me some time off to grieve, not that any amount of time would help with that. To this day I miss him, just the same David Allen Shotts Jr. A.K.A Bubba, will remain my best friend for all time. He was taken way too soon, he was born April 15, 1992 and passed May 8, 2008. He just had his sweet 16 shortly before. He will forever me missed by everyone who ever met him.
By Jessica Keller8 years ago in Families
RIP Momma
Life is never meant to be easy, but I never thought it’d be this hard. At nine-years-old, my mom passed away from a brain tumor. I remember getting the news. The immediate heart ache—it’s a feeling you can’t forget.
By Angela Travis8 years ago in Families
Everyone, Always and Often
"I can't get a pulse." "Uh, what? Are you sure? Try her wrist." "There's nothing." "What about her femoral artery? Try that."
By Millington Lockwood8 years ago in Families
The Hardest Goodbye
2017 has been a rollercoaster, full of "high on life moments" while also dragging a stick through the mud. My baggage behind me gets heavier and heavier. Burden upon burden is laid and all I can do is stand taller to keep my head above the clouds. However, September 8, 2017 was when my world was turned upside down.
By Chloe Hoover8 years ago in Families
The Effect My Father’s Suicide Had
Let me start by saying this: I lost my father to suicide in 2014. We hadn’t spoken in just over a year when he took his life. I realise now that this may have been partly because of the mental illness he tried hiding from everyone.
By No One’s Daughter8 years ago in Families
It Doesn't Get Easier
Blessings come in many ways. For me, one major blessing is that I was able to have my grandparents in my life into my forties. I know many people can’t say that. They say losing someone that you’re close to gets easier as time passes, but I don’t believe that to be true. Your life just changes. My blessing is having grandparents for as long as I did, and my three kids were able to make some memories with them.
By LR Hatfield8 years ago in Families
Loss
Losing someone you love isn’t exactly what you plan on happening in your life. You can’t plan on losing someone or prepare your heart and mind to cope, especially when it’s your child. You always imagine that you would go before your child. That’s how our minds are programmed, right? Well, not for everyone.
By Tarra8 years ago in Families