Clik here to view.
Coming Home
My mother is a strong, brave woman. She set aside her desire to have my father here a little longer, and decided against the feeding tube. She said he wouldn’t have wanted it.But when we met with...
View ArticleClik here to view.
Inpatient Hospice
Dad is now in inpatient hospice. We moved just down the hall from his rehab room at the nursing home. Hospice has a small wing here, so the move was only minimally stressful. Yesterday, before the...
View ArticleClik here to view.
Vigil
The sun is beginning to rise following the third night of my vigil. The days spent in my father’s Hospice room with family and friends are precious. But it is the nights I spend alone with him that I...
View ArticleClik here to view.
On the sixth day, the sun rose.
It’s been twenty-four days. And still, I’m raw. My father hadn’t eaten or had any fluids for four days, and even then it was minimal. I found myself Googling how long a person can live without water....
View ArticleClik here to view.
It’s time.
I’ve been avoiding the page. Hiding from the depths of my grief. Doing anything to pass the time, but write. I know that writing will take me deeper than even looking at photos of my father. I fear the...
View ArticleClik here to view.
Burial At Sea
My sister was in a rush. Everything needed to be done right away. She said my mother needed closure. You can rush through the usual rituals following death. But you cannot rush grief. Still she was...
View ArticleClik here to view.
Not a creature was stirring, not even an asshole.
What a fucked up Christmas Eve. One of my nephews, the son of my deceased brother, stopped by briefly to pick up his brother (now living in my mom’s garage apartment, along with the son of my alcoholic...
View ArticleClik here to view.
Seven Days
I’ve spent my nights since I returned from Houston drinking wine, eating, and watching Downton Abbey with my neighbor. I keep referring to it as Downtown Abbey. My English neighbor corrects me but I’m...
View ArticleClik here to view.
Ella of Arc
A couple of weeks ago, I went to a writers’ retreat on Orcas Island taught by memoirist, Theo Nestor. It was a momentous four days. Four days of clearing the hurdles I’d constructed between me and...
View ArticleClik here to view.
Beach Houses and Dog Bowls
Being alive is weird. I’m sure being dead is weird, too. Or maybe not. Maybe your consciousness is dead along with your body and so there’s nothing left of you to witness whether being dead is weird,...
View ArticleCat Number Five
Meet Cat Number Five a/k/a Spotty a/k/a the Damn Cat. Spotty came to live with me late in the evening on September 15; the night my mother died. He has settled in quickly and well. I thought I would...
View Article
