Creating space to pause, reflect and share experiences with dying and death

Grief

Grief

All that’s left is grief

All that’s left is grief

I never got to know you. Nor you know me. You died before you were born. All that;s left is the grief I feel for what your life could have been.

Read story

It’s not getting easier

It’s not getting easier

Mom, I miss you. It’s not getting easier. I’m lost. Alone. I need you. Love you forever

Read story

I assured you would come home

I assured you would come home

I didn’t know that the last visit would be the final one; I assured you would come home from the hospital, I’d make you tea, and chat… But instead I got a phone call. I still miss you, Grandma xo

Read story

Your number is still my speed dial

Your number is still my speed dial

Dearest friend & brother, Mark — I couldn’t let you go Never got to say Godspeed Do you know now the impact you had on us all? The 5 am calls are missed — your number is still my speed dial #5 Our mantra “I’ll give you

Read story

For you, I will carry on

For you, I will carry on

I miss you so much it hurts. Random moments of my day make me miss you, make me wish I could call or text you. But I can’t. I’ve learned to live with the dull ache of missing you. I’ve learned how to carry one, but I

Read story

I was too shallow to know you were afraid

I was too shallow to know you were afraid

… that I was not being there as much as I should have; not noticing that something was wrong, a long time ago, and you tried to tell me; for being too young to know that I could have engaged in your healing; too ignorant to know

Read story

I flew back and forth every month

I flew back and forth every month

I remember asking you to move to my home so I could take care of you. You did not wish to, so I flew back and forth every month to be with you. I flew back for your 50th birthday and left New Year’s Day. You died

Read story

Not sure if one is harder than the other

Not sure if one is harder than the other

Who do I write about? 1) The abrupt death of my husband 20 years ago? Or, 2) What I am going through now with the slow death from dementia of my sister? Both are hard — not sure if one is harder than the other. Not sure

Read story

How much time do we have?

How much time do we have?

For me there is a comfort in sadness. There is comfort knowing the end is inevitable for all of us and we all come to the same place. I teared up with the piece missing the person in the photo. It is so simply and cleanly shows

Read story

For years my arms ached and my heart cried

For years my arms ached and my heart cried

I had never attended the death of my child before. I didn’t always do it right. I didn’t always know what to do. So I did as I had done throughout your life. I sang to you, I stroked your hair, but I didn’t hold you. Moving

Read story