This grief feels thicker somehow. There’s no one here but me, rattling about and stepping over shadows of invisible cats, rewriting the script of my daily life.
Guest Author Carole Poppleton-Schrading shares a daughter’s struggle to make peace with an alcoholic parent.
By walking in my Dad’s shoes – by exploring his story – I healed my past and claimed my own path and my birthright – to be a writer and a teller of stories.
It is cold. Colder than it is outside, it’s that awful cold that bites your nose, the air thick with the smell of death and filth. We are stunned; words cannot describe the scene we have walked into.
Clause was a sable black cat with an attitude built on entitlement. He graciously allowed me and my other cat, Jack, to share his home, his food and his sleeping quarters for nearly three and a half years.
Author Wanda Lambeth wonders if she helped her father’s death be easier for him and tries to cope with being an adult orphan facing her own fragile mortality.
Remliel and Sammael had been doing this job since before they could remember. It always amazed them how differently each client reacts. It was like they were never really sure if they were still asleep and dreaming or just too terrified to ask either Remliel or Sammael what was going on.
I wept, grief stricken about them one evening a few weeks ago. I had not cried about my deceased family members for years. My sister, one year older than I; my brother one year younger; my father and his brother and their mother; an older sister that I never knew.
My sister is dying. Of course we are all dying, but she is withering in the advanced stages of Huntington’s disease. We have not been close, my sister and me; ten and a half years and different mothers separate us. She was beautiful, and ebullient, and loved life; many years ago.
“The Angels are here now …” The clock illuminated 2:30am, “the Angels are here now” he repeated. He was sleeping next to his sister and the angels had come to see them. Was it because for the last two days I could see a sort of sullen return to her eyes again, the kind […]