Grief Digest Articles

I started planting roses and for a few years it was this peaceful respite that I looked forward to each summer. Radiant petals would bloom, rising out of cold, lifeless soil bursting into an explosion of color.Early May, I started the cycle again and for weeks the roses were vibrant and rich with life. My dad died and I realized I was no better at grief than I had been before. For two days we clung to the tiniest sliver of hope. We showed up, we stood vigil, we prayed, we cried. I watched m …

Unlike Ebenezer Scrooge’s ghost, my “ghost of Christmas past,” didn’t haunt me with bad deeds, greediness or distant memories. Instead, it caused an intense aching pain that validated my loss of dreams. For many holidays after the death of my son, Chad, the ghost of Christmas past could haunt my memories and shake my spirit long before the air was filled with the miracles and magic of the holiday season. The chains that linked me to holidays-gone-by were ever so real.Prior to Chad’s death, …

As I walked into your bedroom last night I noticed a bright light on the floor I know it was you shining down I laid my hands on the light The light was translucent I could see it shining through my fingers For a moment I felt the warmth Of your body that once rested there I know you were telling me That your spirit is still here Combining your spirit with mine In the only way you can Not wanting to release my touch Pressing harder and longer As if fearful that you won't Vis …

Fall of 1986 was a time that most New Yorkers were filled with pride as the Mets won the world series.For me it was a tumultuous time filled with uncertainty and extreme shock.On September 24th my mom, age 46, died by suicide.I can still recall the details of that day and how my life was forever changed.Equally vivid were the individuals who supported me, embrace me and influenced me to become the woman I am today.As I reflect upon the decades that have passed, I contemplate what I have le …

August 2022(based on Griever voice from the article – A Brief Encounter of the Grief Kind)*Found poem is one where material from existing piece(s) of writing is selectively pulled and then patched, knitted together to compose a new piece. Things…died in me.My heart has stopped.You wouldn’t believe what it’s like on some dayswhen I get home and close the door. I wrestle.Doubts…regrets…restlessness and exhaustion;stillness in the house gets to me. Cold.Nothing feels right. Pacing. Constan …