family
Family can be our support system. Or they can be part of the problem. All about the complicated, loving, and difficult relationship with us and the ones who love us.
Mom's Window. Top Story - June 2022.
As recently as October, 2021, Alzheimer’s and Dementia stepped up their game and began working hard to take our mother away from us. A lot of people know and love my mother as someone with an infectious smile and a laugh larger than life. Most would remember playing hide-and-seek at the big house in Fort Wayne, or playing “Red Light/Green Light” in the yard at my grandmother’s house in Augusta, or her singing, laughing, playing pranks, etc., but one thing is certain, they’d definitely remember mom having to get the first and last hug and then waving good-bye until she couldn’t see their car any more. Those closest to mom understood her insatiable love of art and natural light.
By Veronica Coldiron4 years ago in Psyche
Shocked, Shattered, and Unprotected
A hug. What does a hug mean—love, affection, camaraderie, friendship—joy, perhaps? Or sympathy, comfort, nurture? We don’t often hug people we don’t like or at least care about, do we? A hug expresses care, certainly, at its most simple.
By Catherine Kenwell4 years ago in Psyche
A Good Death
Ever since her divorce, Veronica immersed herself in spirituality, first studying meditation technique, then reading the many masters of recent times. One theme kept popping up: a good death. If one could overcome the illusion that one was separate from all else, Veronica read, then one would be able to accept death peacefully, even joyfully. She learned that death is merely the continuation of life, in a new form, of course, and was even beginning to see that true union is fully possible only in death.
By Denise Davis4 years ago in Psyche
Paul Harvey and My Father With the Detox Shakes
He put the drink aside years before, but his hands still shook as he worked the wood in front of him. My father, ever busying himself in the dust-filled, smoke-choked garage with his newest projects. Some he would find at flea markets, these fortresses of a former age. They would come through the garage door, huge wooden cabinets so old even my father had not been born before they were already dust-covered in an attic somewhere.
By Ira Robinson4 years ago in Psyche
The Mirror
Dear Mom, This is supposed to be a confession, but it is also to be written in the form of a letter, so there are certain rules that I need to follow. Usually, I begin all of my letters to you discussing my state of mind, and then I fill in the heart of it with what I have done with my life since my last letter (or, more often, phone call). Those messages can get repetitive and dull and I have no interest in repeating myself.
By Kendall Defoe 4 years ago in Psyche
A love child
It was a normal day for us. My boyfriend and I had spent the entire day together. We got up in the morning per usual and ate breafast with our daugther. We then spent the day out as a family and it was one of the best days we have had in a long time. He then asked if jus the two of us could go for a drive and grab a burger and fries. As we were eating our food something seemed off. He was quiet and a lot more distant than what he had been all day.
By Isabelle Torres4 years ago in Psyche
Blacksheep among Blacksheep
I never really did fit in among my family members. I always felt a little different, or dare I say unwanted? It wasn't only me at first because it was my entire family unit. Out of my grandfather's 4 children, 3 of them were different. Only the youngest was wanted around and was allowed to be himself. My mother was the only female and, while she was favored a little here and there, she shot herself in the foot when she married my father and had me.
By Holly Thackston4 years ago in Psyche
