Grief Digest Articles

By Juliana Parker, LPCC My sister and I grew up with a huge, beautiful avocado tree in our backyard. Its fruit wasn't the size you find in grocery stores. Each one was closer to a small bowling ball. Over the years the tree developed a following, and we were always handing avocados to friends and family, who would exclaim with delight when they received them. While we played on our swingset, it was never unusual to hear our parents call out, "Watch out for falling avocados!" Today, as an adult, …

By Bethellyn Gordon | Founder, Beautiful Obituary There is a particular kind of silence that comes when someone asks you to write an obituary. You may know the person better than almost anyone, yet suddenly you cannot find a sentence. You remember their laugh, the way they answered the phone, the meals they made without a recipe. But putting a life into words can feel impossibly small compared with the life itself. If you are facing that blank page, you do not have to find the perfect words toda …

By Eileen Vorbach Collins Penguins travel and rest on rafts made of their collective bodies. On land, they huddle, constantly shifting, small steps, each taking its turn rotating into the warm middle. Sheltered. Protected. Held. When my daughter died, my heart hurt. Takotsubo cardiomyopathy, my left ventricle ballooning into the shape of a Japanese octopus trap. Broken heart syndrome. Though most octopuses are solitary, some form communities. A tangle.  I longed to float away. With others b …

By Nan Zastrow AUTHOR’S NOTE:  Every fall, communities across the USA hold vigils and participate in the  Out Of Darkness or Suicide Prevention walks, to raise awareness and break the stigma of suicide. My husband and I proudly served on the Suicide Task Force for the same reasons. Three decades have passed since my son’s death by suicide, but my thoughts about my son’s death have not waivered. However, my perspective and what I’ve come to accept has.  D …

By Ruth Talbot The Little Things That Used to Annoy Me Cliff's snoring used to drive me mad. He was one of those infuriating people who could fall asleep within minutes of his head touching the pillow. Insomnia simply wasn't part of his world. Mine was very different. I've always needed quiet to drift off, and even the smallest sound can leave me lying awake, listening. So bedtime became a familiar ritual. The light would go out. For a few blissful moments there would be silence. Then his gentle …