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.

Recovering Mom
As a recovering mother, I would love to tell my story. It all started about 11 years ago. My life was a happy place. I was doing well in High School and plans were being made to go to college. As I entered my senior year of high school my life went from amazing to hazy in a heartbeat. I had started a new school and needed new friends, somehow I fell in with the wrong crowd. The drinkers and partiers. My first drink and drug I tried was at 17-years-old. I was hooked. I had a way of escaping my own reality, a way of getting to know my inner-most desires. As I continued through high school, my plans of college became a vanishing dream, my life a whirlwind of drinks and parties. My job, my savings, and my life was spent during that last year of high school. I barely graduated, barely remember graduating. The lifestyle of partying and drinking was the only thing on my mind. I quickly became a couch surfer, moving from place to place not having anything stable or anyone by my side, but that drink and that drug. Just after I turned 19, my own mother sent me off to a summer break hoping I would dry out and get myself straight in Tucson, Arizona. Instead of drying out, instead of sobering up, I found new friends to drink with the army camp. I dragged myself further and further down the desperate hole I was building in my life. Eventually, I was forced to leave Arizona. I came home, met a boy, fell in "love," and had a child at 20-years-old. The love of my life cheated on me for a new love of his life. My love for parties, new drugs, old drugs, and drinking was always up front. I eventually lost my daughter, leaving her to grow up without a mom. As time passes I fell in and out of desprate trouble, abusive relationships, and worsening habits that I wouldn't and couldn't control. I had two other wonderful children and eventually CPS came, stepped in, and stepped up while I was unable to be a mom. I lost all care custody and control of my children. But thankfully this is almost where my tragic tale ends. As CPS came in, they found I had severe issues with drugs and alcohol and heavy depression. This time in my life had become, by far, the most difficult with watching both of my little boys getting packed up and leaving our little home then being diagnosed with alcoholism and drug addiction. I was placed into a rehab with counseling, for all drug, alcohol, and all depression issues. I spent eighteen months helping myself. Slowly I got better, but sadly in that case, my children became adopted. I fell back to the dark recesses of my mind after that happened. I allowed my alcoholism to kick up, not like in the beginning, but just drinking quite often and trying to hide it while managing a somewhat normal life. Through this process, I would get sober for a small amount of time then lose it again. This process repeated itself over and over until I found a sponsor and read a very special twelve-step book. After working hard to stay sober and trusting the process, I have the ability to stay completely sober and drug-free. I am working at a wonderful job now and that little girl I mentioned is seven-years-old. And I have partial custody of her today!
By Michelle Hess9 years ago in Families
My Guardian Angel
The worst thing for many young adults is seeing those close to their heart age. Realizing that they may no longer be in your life as you grow up is something that is unbelievably hard to come to terms with. When you think of life without them, it makes you think about things like how they'll never see you graduate, come to your wedding, attend your first football game of the season, etc. Whatever it may be, losing someone who is everything you need in life to feel wholesome, is something that will never get easy...especially knowing that you have your whole life ahead of you and they can't be a part of it anymore. For me, it feels as if I am a puzzle, only that there are pieces missing to complete me. Here and there you'll feel the missing piece, and wish you could have the puzzle completed just once more.
By Kaylee Marisah9 years ago in Families
When a Loved One Passes Away
It is stated in nursing homes that when it rains, the residents pass in three's. I know this all too well as I worked in Nursing Homes as a CNA. My heart always went out the the families of those who felt it was their time to go. Over time, while working with said residents, I had the pleasure of not only assisting them on a daily basis but also formed a friendship with them. When it rained and I watched as my new friends take their last breath; I felt myself overcome with sadness. Although I knew my job was never done as I had other residents to care for, but it was the loss of not being able to walk into a room and bid someone good morning or walk with them down the hall to the dining room having a short conversation as to how their night might have been.
By Kate Adams9 years ago in Families
Why I Joined a Grief Counseling Group, and Why You Should Too
About a year after my mother's passing, I started reading a book by Cheryl Strayed, an author whose mother also died when she was younger. Her two-page account of that event made me cry six times that night. I cried more times in one evening than I had over the entire first year of my mother being gone.
By Aspen Drake9 years ago in Families
I Always Wanted to Be Funny
I always wanted to be funny. When I was a small child, I would do my best to entertain my mother. It was more than just a job or a hobby or anything like that. It was who I was meant to be. Since then, it has taken on its own form.
By Ronny Pascale9 years ago in Families
In Which I Address the Passing of My Mother
When I was little and the world was quiet, I would lie in bed and think about the earth and how big it was. Then my mind would shift to the solar system, and how we are constantly floating around amongst other planets and countless stars. Then I would think about how there was even more beyond that, perhaps beyond anything a single person could imagine. I would begin to feel dizzy, and would have to roll over and consider something on a smaller scale. That’s how I would describe losing my mother. It’s something that I know happened, but it’s not something I take time to regularly consider. And when I do, it’s weird as f@#k. And despite how big the world is, with all its winding roads and hidden places I haven’t visited, and how many launches we are making into space, my mom isn’t there. I wont find her anywhere. Not around the corner of a noisy street market like in some art film, and not on another planet that we’ll eventually colonize like some sci-fi twist. She’s gone.
By Aspen Drake9 years ago in Families
Matters of Life and Death
There have been a number of high-profile cases involving end-of-life care, and the “right-to-die” (or to live). Medical professionals are bound in their duty by their training and the law, and must do what is in the patient’s best interests. Unfortunately the relatives of the patient are not always willing to accept the medical verdict, and we run into conflict. When this is discussed in the media, the conversation tends to focus on science vs. religion, emotion vs. reason; portraying distressed relatives as selfish and delusional. Taking a detached and dispassionate stance, we look upon the situation “rationally” and side with the facts, but we’re not reviewing all of the evidence.
By Katy Preen9 years ago in Families
He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother
The first person i had ever lost in life was my Great Grandmother. I remember being around 4 years old and asking my Mom what happened when you died. She would always say you float to Heaven and watch over your loved ones.. told me "see that really bright star in the sky!? Thats great grandma shining down." I took comfort in knowing there was more to life than just earth.
By Aseetnahc9 years ago in Families
Teach Me How
How do you learn to leave someone in the past while keeping them in the future with you when you know they can't be here, no matter how much you wish they could? What happens when you lose someone? There was nothing that could be done. No way we could save him. He was so young — only a child. Now he's gone.He's not coming back. We wish he would. We wish he could but he's in a better place now. A place where he no longer hurts, his eyes work again, he can speak and be understood. But what happens when a mother never stops grieving and you wish you could be there for her in a way that you don't know how? What happens when she breaks down, the dam breaks loose, and your heart shatters because you feel the same way, yet you could never feel it as much as she? She was his mother, and he her baby. He was a bright child. What happens when she's crying years after he's gone? How do you help her? How do you let her know you will always be there? How do you compare to the love of her child? What do you do when you know if he was here, he'd be the one to comfort her, to know exactly what she needs, to help ease the burden and heal the pain.
By Susan K9 years ago in Families
The 96 Hours that Changed My Life
The Day Before I nearly didn't go. I had a headache and really just wanted to lie down in a dark room. We bumped into Auntie Alison on the way in as she was just leaving. She had driven up from somewhere further down south, Manchester or Nottingham I think. She asked me and Danielle if now was a good time to be going on holiday, as we both had things booked for the upcoming week. We brushed it off as no big deal, from what we knew Mum was recovering and would be home soon.
By Chloe McClements9 years ago in Families
The End of a Family
I wrote this in an old diary on 11th March 2003 at 6:35am, some seven months after my mum died. It was the first time I could put pen to paper and recount what happened.
By Richard Douglas9 years ago in Families
Pal Joey. Top Story - August 2017.
Looking at the screen of the CAT scan I think, ‘Now this in authentic Reality TV.’ I am blinking fast and furious faucets of tears as if I think I can lift off and out of this cramped, over-heated office fueled solely by eyelash power. The young oncologist is calm. The scene, like his job, is a re-run, scripted with words like “cancer,” “Stage 4,” “8 months to a year,” “so sorry,” “do what we can.”
By Dr. Ronda9 years ago in Families