Grief Digest Articles

When our loved ones were physically alive, they were the combination of their bodies and their souls, both loved equally. Those two seemingly inseparable parts created their lives. When they were in our presence, we absorbed them physically. We could touch them, hold them and talk to them.They were primarily their bodies, which to us was the most essential part of their lives. When they left to go to school or work, when they went out with friends or even when they had just gone to bed, we could …

You’ve probably heard about it on Oprah: The Secret. It’s a book, a DVD, an audio CD, and it’s big. What is The Secret? Well, the folks who produced it probably won’t like my brief definition, but here it goes. The Secret states, “Whatever you think about most, the universe will bring to you.”You want a mate? A car? A new career? More money? Better health? Don’t say, “I wish for these things.” Instead, see and feel yourself having them. Don’t focus on lack. See abundance. If this sounds familiar …

Nothing in my fourteen-year hospice career ever could have prepared me for June 9, 2005, when my mother and my two adult children were flown to Shock Trauma in critical condition following a motor vehicle accident. I was not prepared for the “save life at all cost” philosophy or the total disregard of my mother’s advanced directives. I was not permitted at the bedside or even informed that she was dying.Locked down on the first floor waiting room, my husband, my brother and I had no access or up …

The day you died, something inside of me died, too.With no inner flame to light the way,I am greeted by an endless night,dampened in your absence,and darkened by the lack of light.The day you died, I lost a part of me forever.I wander aimlessly with no direction.I am a broken compass, all aloneon a journey without end,on a path that leads me far from home.The day you died, I lost a listener and a friend.I search for understanding and warmth,but my cries are hushed by distanced stares,An empty ro …

It was Tuesday morning, May 23, 2004; the time was 7:00 a.m. The first dad arrived and seated himself at a corner table in the coffee shop of an Indianapolis hotel. A second dad walked into the room, saw the person he was looking for and sat down at the same table. A third dad entered saw the other two and pulled up a chair. Although the three dads had met before, they didn’t really know each other.Jerry’s son, Jason, had died just one week after 9/11, and for a couple of months he had attended …