Thor Grey (G. Steven Moore)
Since 1991, this compassionate writer has grown through much adversity in life. One day it will culminate on his final day on Earth, but until then, we learn something new every day and we all have something to offer to others as well.
The Two Strong Women of King Street
So many From one to the next So many houses Not homes Never a home Home was not something I knew But I always said “going home”
Even though Joyce had been dead and buried for nearly seven months now, the ache of loss worsened as the wounds were being ripped open, the rawness picked at by ongoing suffering. The same mourners who had been here starting the new year with that burial, found themselves having returned to her grave, standing around the freshly dug hole where her husband was being buried beside her.
Suicidal Minds: The Societal Associations and Moral Dilemmas
‘If I don’t get an ‘A’ on this paper I’m gonna kill myself.’ That’s what someone might say, not necessarily as a joke, but to express how they feel the level of importance the consequence of the situation is. But in reality, they aren’t going to go down a bottle of pills, or get a gun and shoot themselves or even go jump off a bridge. Instead, they might heave and sigh, maybe even cry, but I can guarantee that they aren’t going to go and off themselves. But what about that kid, over in the corner, he seems alright, ‘normal’, but every day, or maybe just a couple times a week, he truly thinks about suicide. The important fact isn’t how often, it’s that he truly feels that this is a thought worth considering, and it’s not just some passing phrase. For him, it’s the truth.
Morgan lay awake waiting to hear his parents getting up. This was his first trip to the north. He was eager to get outside into the snow and enjoy the different environment.
With his parents gone now, Morgan was left to make some important decisions. While his grandfather was handling everything that was related to the funeral service, Morgan had to consider his whole future.
Färger August 10th, 2021 She is cruel She is kind Really though It’s more like Your perception Your antennae
“Morgan Eschew?” the middle-aged man called out. Morgan raised his hand in response to the attendance call, having been broken out of a daydream. The man continued through the class, his deep voice a slight buzz in Morgan’s ear.
All the usual signs pointed to a storm coming this evening. She stood at the kitchen sink of their farmhouse, staring out the window. A drinking glass on the windowsill held marigolds, echinacea, and tiger lily, all from the garden that was planted just below. The bunches of six-foot-tall sunflowers at either end of the garden framing the faded green wall.