Coping With Grief
Embracing Strangers
As the driver pulls into the ambulance bay at the hospital, a wave of relief washes over me. Now that we have arrived, I can
October 28, 2024
As the driver pulls into the ambulance bay at the hospital, a wave of relief washes over me. Now that we have arrived, I can
Before the custom of worldly influence took over our consciousness, at least for myself, the celebration of Mother’s Day was a simple time in our
Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there. I do not sleep. Almost 30 years ago, my father died. Diagnosis to
From Maiden to Mother to Crone It occurred to me recently that my days seem filled with a constant repetition of one- and two-step tasks,
My mom had very small hands. Yet, I was excited when my hands were as big as hers. Mom’s hands were dainty, but she didn’t
Once upon a time, there was a woman named Maggie Gorishek who—like the children’s book character, Strega Nona—worked in her autumn years, churning and churning,
To my mother, Sandy, this is for you.
You were gone before I could know you, but you are in everything I am. You left behind three daughters by the time you were 30—Allyson, Andrea, and me. We grew up without you, but never without the love you gave us.
I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you. I love you.
July 31, 2014, was just another beautiful, sunny summer day in the suburbs of Chicago. I would have never guessed when I woke up that
I sat early one spring morning with my love’s head resting on my lap and his big trusting eyes looking into mine. For a clue. For a sign. For help. He seem to dissociate from what was going on with the rest of his body. It was just him and me there. In ICU. The beeps, the buzzers, the voices fading into a monotony of noise. He to me and me to him. I stroking his head, caressing his body, his magnificent body. His eyes boring into my heart and many on lookers, despite the early hour, watching the moment that was the two of us.
Do I have the strength?
“Now what?” I asked the Chihuahua that twitched at my feet, wrapped around my ankle. “I need to get some work done, and I’m distracted
I never thought much of them. To me, they were just some tall and ugly wildflowers in my least favourite colour. Orange. But my father