We were the last to come. The trip was longer than we'd planned and by the time we got to the church, nearly all the pews were filled.My old friend stood at the front of the church, a small cluster of people around her. An arm's length away, her daughter lay in a casket, her black hair splayed across a satin pillow and a bouquet of flowers at her waist. A small poster of the Virgin Mary was propped on the casket's lid. She was still like a painted wooden statue, her extraordinary light gone, doused. There were only a few hints left of the exotically beautiful girl she had been....more
My husband's aunt died this week; she was 71, another victim to Terrorist Cancer. We were not able to go to the funeral in Kansas City, but thanks to modern technology we were able to watch it live streamed, virtual observers and passive mourners.
I'm trying to plan my mother's funeral, but we have a problem. We can't find her.
My mother passed away Saturday after a long illness. I had all the funeral arrangement planned months in advance, so I was prepared when the inevitable happened. After she died, I contacted the proper authorities to transport her body 100 miles to her hometown of Wendell, Idaho for the funeral and burial.
Okay, here goes. Why did I miss day one? I spent a good deal of yesterday spending time with my extended family. My sweet Aunt Babara died on Sunday and her viewing was yesterday.I had not the energy nor the inclination to write.But then, isn’t that what projects like NaBloPoMo are for? To get myself in gear and write even when I don’t feel like it....more
When your mother dies, you will take care of things. You'll call her friends on the phone and tell them one by one that their friend has died. You will listen as they nod and wait for them to tell you stories about her but they won't. They'll keep what they remember until later. Now is not the time, they think....more
I try to go about my day, and do mundane things. I clean the bathroom. I wash dishes.I work out.But inside, I’m waiting for the next wave. The emotion to hit me. It always creates the best narrative.I know what I want to write, where I need to go – but without the wave… It sounds wooden and unimaginative.Of course when it hits – I seem to get every emotion…all at once – anger, sadness, frustration, love, desire…. The trick is filtering through and choosing the right one to write with.To tell the story with....more
When your father dies, you will be at a loss for words.
If it's a surprise, you will burst into tears. You will cover your face with your hands and cry like you were six-years old, like the time you got lost on the way home from school and all the houses looked different and you couldn't find your way....more