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.
My Grandmother’s Eyes
People say I have my grandmother’s eyes. Hers were hazel, with a ring of gold circling her pupils. Mine are much the same. When they catch enough light, they appear moss-green — like the forest surrounding the place I grew up in. Other times, they look almost blue, like my mom’s.
By Ilana Quinn5 years ago in Families
Side Effects of Grief.
These last few years haven't been too kind to me, I think I can tell you that much, in full confidence. I’m not here to complain, nor brag, that’s never my intention, I have enough time of my own to host my own 'one person pity parties', I don’t need to invite anyone else along. However, it's never hurt to express how I've been feeling and after many therapy sessions, I don't mind the thought of strangers knowing about how I'm feeling too. I hope you can find some solace in this piece somewhere.
By meg ivy brunning5 years ago in Families
ramblings from someone who hasn't slept that much.
March 12th 2021. In dreams that were usually tinted in a pink hue or full of encounters with celebrities, or even me and my friends exploring places new and others that feel familiar in some way or another, I never thought you would enter them. Nothing against you, I used to dream of you when I was younger. I would dream about summer days, exploring places or you teaching me how to ride a bike.
By meg ivy brunning5 years ago in Families
How grief awakens something inside of us
My grandmother has been an important figure throughout my entire life. I remember being 6 and crying myself to sleep because that's when I understood the concept of death. Back then, the possibility of losing her was unbearable for my 6 years old mind, and I kept thinking how unfair life will be for taking her away from me one day.
By Andreea Cristea5 years ago in Families
Porch Swing Love
Texas straw grass sways like ocean waves in a scorched field. Sun rays beam aggressively against the dehydrated soil. The sound of insects fills the atmosphere, an overwhelming feeling of calm and peace floods the surrounding fields. Tractors skim the wheat fields and collect what is known around here as "God's gift." A white farm-style home with a wrap-around porch sits picture perfect in the middle of paradise. Three large willows face the house, dragging their limbs on the ground. Walking through the willows reminds me of her touch. Approaching the porch I walk up the sun-bleached steps and find myself on the southern-style porch swing. Here is where the story begins and ends. Standing over the white, peeling paint swing I can remember her smell and smile. Like a dream, I sit down and reminisce in what many would call, "dead nothing for miles." To me this was home, maybe even the garden of Eden. Resting my back on the frail wooden support beams on the chair I feel as though time has robbed me of what could have been. My curly hair gleams with sweat. This part of the day was her favorite. Sitting here we watch the sunset over the flat land and anticipate how boastful the moon would appear. Sweet tea was an absolute tradition to have every night. Overcome with emotion, the humid wind collides with my falling tear and causes it to fall onto the bench and not my lap. On this swing, we talked about some of the most monumental factors in one's life. Who was God? Who am I? What will I do with my life? Will I ever find love? She was always there. Never shy to share advice, she was always outspoken. Calm and honest. If I had described her in two words. I can remember one evening I hopped off the big yellow bus, dashed home, and told her the boys at school were calling me a "sissy boy." Sitting on the swing, she looked at me with her big blue eyes and soft facial features and said, "remember this, the weakest men always try to cut down the strongest." Later in my teenage years when I confided my identity about being gay, she without a beat repeated the same phrase and continued to say, "if you cannot stand on your own two feet and be who you are, where will you stand?" For a woman in the deep south to even remotely suggest this topic was extremely taboo especially in the 1970s. I regress to the present moment on this swing and slowly shuffle my feet against the stained wooden floors. The word 'good' doesn't even describe how kind her soul was. Staring off to the willow trees I can see the sun peer through the drooping willows. Fireflies dance around the stump area of all three trees. The chain holding the lengthy swing squeaks as they meet with friction. I turn my head to the right and cross my sweaty legs. When I close my eyes I can see her crystal clear smile. Holding her tired hands brought me a peace that is indescribable to any feeling I've ever felt. Her voice was smooth as silk. Looking back now, I wish I would have embraced every moment with more precision. There was and will never be a love like hers. Being here without her is something I never thought I would have to do. She was my call when I got lonely. My best friend. My heart and soul.
By Patrick Bills 5 years ago in Families
A Spring Day
The late March morning finally felt the way it had all those years ago, as warm as the blankets I just crawled out of. The sun shone through my window and for a full five minutes I just soaked in the warm gentle light and cleansed my lungs with the dewy, fresh air. Like always, my mind wandered and I remembered. A small part of me no longer fights the fact, that when I turn around, I won't see his face pressed into the pillow, fighting the morning lights early call. Instead, I am able to turn back, see my bed, and its exactly what I expect: my bed, covered in so many pillows they consume his entire side. This was the third spring I had faced alone, until today I had spent every day of what used to be my favorite season heartbroken. I remember walking through the fields and planting our garden the weekend before I lost my husband. As I get ready for the day, check in on the construction crew at the restaurant, and take their breakfast order I am finally able to feel the sun shining through to warm me. After making five omelettes with seasoned cheesy potatoes, I load up all my errands and head out for the day. When I walk into the restaurant, I am blown away by how perfectly our vision has been brought to life. A tear rolls down my cheek as I whisper, "We made it baby" into the empty hall. The music blasting from my car must have alerted the guys of my arrival, because they all came out holding forks and beaming. We sat down and ate together, reviewing the schedule for the day and checking in on the progress so far. It had been nice to get to know them over the last few months and I was going to miss our breakfasts together. As they jumped back into their cabinet installations, I hurried out to complete my to-do list. With each passing hour I was feeling better and better. Due to no lines at checkout, I was able to finish my errands by mid afternoon. After spending some time in the park, I saw a couple ride by on bikes. They were laughing as they raced to see who would pick up the check tonight. I smiled, closed my eyes, and i let the breeze wrap around me. It pulled my hair up gently and then placed it back down on my shoulders. When I opened my eyes, I made eye contact with a man across the walkway. He blushed and looked away, but quickly looked back again. To my surprise, my heart fluttered and I couldn't help but stare at him in awe. My heart hadn't fluttered since I first saw my Michael all those years ago. I walked over, introduced myself and we ended up walking around for over an hour. As I was driving home, still flustered from the intensity of the attraction I had to the man in the park, I started to daydream. When I looked around, I realized that I hadn't driven home, but instead I was at my husbands grave site. I walked up the hill and sat with my back against his headstone, like I had so many times before but this time I wasn’t crying. I told him about my day and even about the new man I met. The warmth the stone had collected all day made it feel as if he were hugging me. I unknowingly drifted off but was startled awake by the sound of a dog in the distance. It must have only been for a short time because it was still fairly light out. I bid my husband a farewell for the day and made my journey home. To my surprise, Mark from the park had called and left me a voicemail. He was already asking to see me this weekend. I was giddy as I called my best friend to tell her about my upcoming date. After a glass of wine, and lots of laughs, I refilled my glass, I started to prepare my salad, grabbing a head of lettuce and three carrots to soak, while I decided what else to mix with it. As I roamed the garden we had made, I looked to the sky one last time and soaked in the days last few rays of sunshine. I saw the sun disappear for a moment behind a low hanging pear from the tree at the edge of the property line. I walked over, and grabbed my last ingredient and finished my glass of wine.
By Kathleen Axtell 5 years ago in Families
Grandma's Garden
There was a warm, hazy glow from the evening sun as April sat silently on the garden bench and scrolled wildly through Google looking for gardening tips. Eyes darting across the links, she felt agitated... unsettled... irritated. How had this become another thing for her to do? She could have caught a bus to Emma's house and be sitting in her garden sipping some cheap wine and topping up her summer tan in the last blast of an Indian summer. Instead her mum had called her at work, "go visit your Grandma, she misses you". What a lie that turned out to be?
By Helen Hunter5 years ago in Families
