Let’s not be blind to the turning points…
What I understood about a father-daughter relationship only after he passed away.
A soldier’s mother’s grief is expected to be hidden and contained.
It's been nearly two years since my husband Rob passed away by suicide, proving that time can be both elastic and uncompromising. Elastic in that if I close my eyes, I can almost hear his voice in the...
I am the founder of a news website for parents called Mom is Born. Mom is born. Because every time a baby is born, a mom is born too, right? It never occurred to me that there could ever be a situatio...
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The process is not one size fits all.
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Over the last few years, I have lost my mother to cancer, my father to liver cirrhosis, my grandmother to Parkinson's disease and my grandfather to dementia. Some were ill for months, others for years...
My father is dying. I watch him in his hospital bed, his face alternately contorted in pain and peacefully asleep. He has lost 10 kilos in the last year. The needles leave dents in his skin and every day, another machine wheels in and clicks on, taking another part of my father. I look for clarity everywhere. In newspapers, in magazines, in books, in the Gita, the Dhammapada, the Bible, the Koran. But I don't understand any of them.
The posters we share, the solidarity profile pictures, or the quotes we retweet--do they give recourse or relief to the children brutally awakened from the innocent bliss of childhood to face the grim reality of the world we live in; to the mother who lost her toddler son; to the man who lost his companion of decades; to the families whose celebration turned into loss because one man decided blowing up a park is what God wants.