Category Archives: Coping with the Death of a Child

Popcorn

  I am an old movie fan, having watched the late late show when I was a pre-teen and allowed to stay up on Friday and Saturday night provided I got up early enough in the morning.  I fell in love with … Continue reading

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In Time

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greater and lesser degrees

The grief attacks seem like a  sort of panic attack.   The feeling is sudden, the thoughts flood in, my son is dead.  He is really gone.  I will not see, hear or touch him again in this world.   … Continue reading

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resolutions

One part of the holiday is over and another looms on the horizon.  The problem is that it marks with vast distinction 6 months since our son’s death on January 2nd.   Anticipation of Christmas was worse than the actual … Continue reading

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Holiday from the holiday

This is a week that cannot be written about.  I look at the screen and my mind is whirling with thoughts, none of them useful.  We are trying to superimpose old routines upon this time of the year.  They don’t … Continue reading

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An unexpected gift

A friend of mine and fellow artist showed me one of her paintings that will be featured in a show this Spring.  The vantage point was from above looking down on a street somewhere in Europe.  The street arches away … Continue reading

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a fable

I am so tired of being sad.  I am annoyed by feelings of guilt when I am not sad.  I think I startle others when I laugh and joke, I am past startling myself.  There is a form of punishment … Continue reading

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Pip

I fasted from writing for a few days, at least from this type of writing.  I wrote short poems and a simple Christmas acrostic.  I also started trying to transcribe a journal kept by my son.   I am not … Continue reading

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In the moment

I’ve only had one panic attack that I know of or can remember vividly.  It happened less than a week after my son died.  I had gone to the kitchen, my husband, daughter and sister were in the den.  I … Continue reading

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Life among the living

Gray the day wet with rain fog wrapped and dripping a heavy hand. The process to be worked the step by step by step the small pool of light right there at your feet all that  can be seen. Misunderstood … Continue reading

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