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.
Dad, my Hero
The few happy times I had as a child with my father were precious, beyond gracious, glorious, bittersweet, and paramount. I loved the summer when I was 8, I spent with my father when my mean mother left. I was hoping she would never come back. It was just dad and me. Dad was a carpenter and sometimes, he would take me to work with him. I could smell the fresh wood. He would pack a huge hearty lunch so I was not hungry or going without. Dad made things fun for me. I loved it when it was just the two of us, no interruptions, no chaos, no abuse happening, only safety, protection, and unconditional love experienced. I was a stressed child because of all the abuse and neglect I suffered at the hands of my mother, her brother, and others in the family. When I was with dad, it was a breath of fresh air. I knew I was loved, I felt his love. I knew I would be well-fed and receive his quality time and affection. All I wanted was to be with dad when I was little and most of my life growing up. He would cook hearty meals, teach me to ride a bike, skate, and swim. Dad would build a swingset from his own hands in the backyard: 2 swings: one for me and one for a friend. Dad made sure he used enough rope and was a rope I can hang onto in my childhood I could keep with me. Once, the swing broke and I flew across the backyard. Dad was there to care for me straight away, hugging me, cleaning my wounds, being a true father. I took in all his time, all his love. When dad hugged me, I felt the world was my oyster. He would say "you're some smart" with a huge smile in his heart and a twinkle in his light brown eyes.
By Christina Walsh5 years ago in Families
A Heartfelt Letter To My Mother
Hey Mom! I thought I’d write you this letter telling you how much I miss you. It’s been 11 years since you passed away and I think about you a lot. I miss the trips we took to visit our family in New Jersey, I miss your cooking, the whole house filled with the smell of whatever you were making that night. I miss our trips to Vegas, I was to young to gamble but because you and Dad knew people, I always got free games at Circus Circus, I miss decorating the Christmas tree with you and then we’d sit by the fire with marshmallows and roast them.
By Robert Kegel5 years ago in Families
The lady of our lives
Life lessons you showed me was never put your full trust in man. Rather it’s negative or positive I’ve learned so much on what to do and what not to do. You showed me how to survive but also how to live your life. All that we been through in our lives made me the woman I am today. I’m strong, independent, a very good mother to my babies and hopefully I’ll have one more. You showed me stability when it came to men, lol 😂 they either had together or be gone. When you except my babies your earn my heart, that’s the type of woman you were. Coming up as a child I didn’t see it like this before and still sometimes today. You was a working wife and working mother too, still made ways to follow through. Going through all that you did, it was for a reason and the reason was your kids. Sometimes things was done out of spite, by the end of the day we knew you was right. The main thing you showed me in life was how to fight to the end. You fought, you cried , even yelled out the words I’m sorry and I tried. Still today I’m thinking why? What you sorry for you did your job. You tried to do what’s right and I understand that too, but without all that you still my mother and I love you. I forgive you and grieve every night wishing you was near. The water on my face is an ever lasting tear, everyday I wake will be another breath I take. Missing you 😔 and not hearing your voice. This situation made us make some life changing choices. Your shell may be gone but your soul will carry on, we love you forever boss mom we will see you in another time.
By Keila Martin5 years ago in Families
The Promise
“Amore mio, promise me you’ll be with me when I die,” he said to me. I looked at him, not knowing if he was serious or not, but said, “Yes, I promise. Wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, I’ll come to you. But don’t go and die on me any time soon, all right?”
By D. D Bartholomew5 years ago in Families
"Be Stronger"
My memories from my childhood are limited. In fact, I only have a select few that exist in great detail within my recall. Until the age of 10, I hardly lived a life; it was one of dissociation. My sisters talk about the nights our parents fought, about the tears we all shed huddled together on the bed. My cries muffled by a blanket, their hands stroking my back and playing with my curls, voicing soothing coos as the time ticked by. And yet I don’t remember anything but the colour of my bedspread.
By Tiara Russell5 years ago in Families
Moms
I’m grown now, supposedly, completely. But they say when something tragic happens to you, you stay that age. My mother was murdered when I was six years old. So began my (self-imposed) life journey. A painful, yet sometimes immensely satisfying quest; Someone to fill my mama’s shoes.
By Dayna Clark5 years ago in Families
Red Lipstick Gang
As I write this on my gray sectional, sturdy and held together with duct tape and love, I look over to my amazing, talented roommate and disclose that I am writing my next piece about my mother. I don’t know what that's going to mean for my mood, but there will be many emotions over the next few days.
By Genesis Gonzalez5 years ago in Families
The Three Musketeers
His body had already gone cold an hour ago. Lips, parted as though he intended to whisper one last goodbye. But – no – my father’s last words were spoken days prior, singing me a ‘Happy Birthday’ rendition with what little energy he had, as the rain tapped against the cold window of the hospice care room.
By Mikala West5 years ago in Families
My Brother Went Up to Heaven
My twenty-year-old big brother died in an abrupt, intoxicated tragedy almost two months ago and I cannot cry. I go about my life as if he still lives going about his own. Instead, his ghost hangs from a sheet in the closet of his bedroom, his body in ashes split amongst family and friends as we attempt to put the pieces of his life back together. As we, or they I should say, attempt to put the pieces of theirs back in place without him somehow. Yet I cannot cry.
By Sarah Smith5 years ago in Families
