Cremated Remains
The Delivery of Mom
I like it dark. I like it really dark when I’m sleeping. The sheet and blanket pulled over my head, the light peeking through the
August 2, 2021
I like it dark. I like it really dark when I’m sleeping. The sheet and blanket pulled over my head, the light peeking through the
Time for liquid meds – under tongue We also have medicine for if you are in pain We can make it yummy Iced tea to
I came into this world close to midnight, which is why my father tended to forget and mistake the following day as my birth date.
When I was a child, my father had an old cigar box full of things that were meaningful to him: a broken rosary made of
I do not envy Lord Krishna when he meets my mother in his Heavenly Abode. Before she passed away in the COVID ICU, my mother
I have wondered if my father also took me to the cemetery because he sensed he would die young and be buried here and wanted me to remember who is my real father, and perhaps find my way back to the cemetery and connect.
Yiddish was Mom’s first language. She was not even exposed to English until she went to kindergarten. Yiddish was also the secret language that my grandparents reverted to when they did not want us to understand them.
We caught on fast and learned to crack the code. We knew that gib a cook meant “take a look”; that gay gezunte hate meant “go in good health”; that tsorris was “suffering.”
Grief Dialogues is proud to recommend this powerful, award winning film. “Not going to get the treatments this time. Just can’t do it again. I’ll
Big Me, Little Me Little Me: Mommy was 33 when she “passed away” in June of ‘61. She died at home napping. I recall it
My grief is old, but never far from the surface. I use it to approach every day that I live. Because of grief, I look
