Posts tagged death of a parent
Proceed Slowly—Grief at Work

My Daddy lived with me before he died. I didn’t write during that time. I wish I had known then about how healing it can be but knowing myself as I do now—somewhat petulant and always right, of course—I probably would’ve flung aside the idea that anything could help. Besides, when would I have had time to write? Puh-leeze! I was teaching full-time, I had a teenage daughter, my marriage was falling apart, my siblings were nowhere to be found, and I was fast approaching menopause.

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I Just Can't Bear to Sing

I haven’t been able to sing a song at church since my dad died. Not one hymn, worship song, nothing has been sung aloud in over 3 years. There were Sundays when I would attempt to sing and tears would flow so fast and heavy that I would nervously wipe them away enough to get to the bathroom and avoid the rest of worship time. I grew to hate this part of church. I would go to the bathroom, pretend the baby needed something, get more water. Anything but having to stand there and bottle my emotions why others praised the lord with their voice.

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Very Afraid

The writing prompt is to write of a time when I was very afraid.  What shall I choose?  When did I start feeling afraid as a child?  When did I realize that something was not right, not safe, with my mother?  Is a "time when I was very afraid" my whole life?  No, because I'm no longer very afraid.  Or maybe I am, actually!  I have certainly found ways to cope with the fear that started early on!  Very afraid.. that word "very" in front of afraid causes me to pause.  What qualifies as very afraid?

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I won't mourn your death

I feel like a horrible person. I am in a waiting room at a hospital, hoping that my father dies on the table while having open heart surgery. Why? Most people who know him would say he was a stand-up guy. He provided for us, gave us things we needed and things we wanted. We had quality education, a car to drive, vacations every year. But I hate him on a level I cannot verbalize well.

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