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.
Shake The Head
Something told her to stay awake, though a crash from caffeine was catching her full throttle. She couldn’t decide if it was fun or not. Not, mostly. She had scored the prize seat on her flight back from her temporary home, by luck! Without paying for it, the airline counter lady had sat her in the last row of the emergency exit section. More legroom plus a reclining seat! An unexpected luxury. A sign.
Loren EarlePublished 3 years ago in FamiliesThe Last Wish
Ben stared at the envelope; it was lilac-colored and lightly scented with the tidy loops of familiar handwriting across the front. "Benjamin Easton." He traced his finger over the elaborate 'B' and took a deep breath in. So this was really it.
Elizabeth AndersonPublished 3 years ago in Families"Just in Case"
Terrie sat down in the floor, surrounded by what seemed to be a sea of cluttered envelopes and small files. She was exhausted from going through every corner of every thing that Dan had left behind.
Teresa ThompsonPublished 3 years ago in FamiliesBitter/Sweet
Everett awoke, as seemingly endless bittersweet mornings before, cradled between a heap of discarded shipping boxes and a monochromatic blanket retrieved from a hospice donation center. His weathered, solemn brow and slipshod beard still held the crystalline rime of a January night spent under the oceanside boardwalk. He preferred to keep close proximity to the ocean, for the tides lived in his bones as much as they did in the motherly cradle of the earth; forever undulating in tandem between his angelic best or the regrettable business of existence. As of this moment, the only source of palpable warmth visible to an onlooker about his complexion was the perennial ardor of Everett’s dark blue eyes, which rarely failed to greet each new day preciously albeit not without hesitance learned from indefinitely measured time spent merely subsisting.
Samuel GreenspanPublished 3 years ago in FamiliesThe Elephant in the Room
Mia stares at her blank laptop screen, trying her best to muster the first chapter of her book. “Mia! Make me chamomile tea and throw away the rest of this soup, it’s disgusting.” Mia’s mother yells across the tiny two-bedroom apartment.
Sonia SawkarPublished 3 years ago in FamiliesMy Mothers Diary
R.J. came home from work early with the intentions of taking his wife Valarie out on the town. She was in her eighth month of a high risk pregnancy. Normally, if he wasn't doing overtime, R.J. would come home, cook dinner for her and watch a movie, but for some reason, today he was feeling guilty. For the past month, she'd only left the house for doctor visit. Valarie was beyond frustrated.
Armien PurcellPublished 3 years ago in FamiliesThe Letters
“So? What did you think?” My mother asked as she started the car. Her smile was wide, lighting up her eyes and showing her wrinkles. I could tell that she was as excited as I was about the college, if not more excited.
Hazel SteelePublished 3 years ago in FamiliesScar Tissue
Her grandmother was dead. The finality came like a hammer. As Emma stood there with her tea tray, staring at the husk that had contained a soul last night, a single emotion welled up in her. Pure raging anger.
Nick JamesPublished 3 years ago in FamiliesUndying Love
Salt stung my lip as a solitary tear dribbled past my mouth to the teak surface below, creating a small pool that reflected the harsh fluorescent lighting overhead. I picked up the small collection of personal effects from the coroner's desk, confusion pushing the sorrow aside momentarily.
Lisa VanGalenPublished 3 years ago in FamiliesRusskaja Farms
“Say pickles!” That’s what my dad would say to try and make us smile, he would make funny faces and weird noises, and my grandpa would try to always eventually join in; but how? How could they expect us to smile?
Wendy BarryPublished 3 years ago in FamiliesThe Handwriting of Santa
Prologuette I stopped believing in Santa when I was six years old. Life had already begun to disappoint my expectations, so knowledge of this cultural illusion did little to dampen my already soaked spirits. The reason for the spirit-soakage: my parents, in a flash of traumatic brilliance, blindsided my six-year-old reality of familial life with a concept that created a fracture in a seemingly unbreakable bond. This concept has a name, and that name is DIVORCE. The result - as it relates to Santa, anyway - was that Santa would visit both mommy and daddy’s home on the same night. This idea was A-OK to my gift-receiving child brain, even if I didn’t fully understand what divorce implied. The rest of the traumatic rigmarole I compartmentalized into my deep subconscious as if I were choosing to bury a time capsule rigged with atomic explosives. What became interesting, however, was that I discovered Santa’s sophistry when I opened the gifts at my father’s house on Christmas morning. Whatever my powers of perception were at this young age proved adequate enough to notice that Santa’s handwriting had mysteriously changed into that of my father’s. Seeming to already grow used to disappointment, I shrugged nonchalantly to hide my frustration and began opening my presents.
Tyler Alexander StevensPublished 3 years ago in FamiliesMy Little Black Book
After her mother passed away, Nora was left with the daunting task of cleaning out her mother’s house, a house her mom had lived in for well over fifty years. It was a massive old English colonial complete with a huge attic filled with nooks and crannies and lots of hiding spots.
Nora HardyPublished 3 years ago in Families