-
“So, while the lobby of the cancer center is probably one of the most depressing places on the planet, it’s also one that gives me an odd sense of comfort.”
-
A Woof is My Word For Love
A family’s eternal love for their first pet: “Every tiny, beautiful memory of ours is a fort that protects him. Every time we talk about him, we give that fort a fresh coat of paint. Every time we utter his name, the fort’s doors open and the black boy comes running out, with his long tongue out.”
-
Still Life
Georgina Blanchard recalls the stillbirth of her son, Charlie Showman: “It had never occurred to me that my baby would be anything but healthy.”
-
oh nothing
“I almost shut down my blog yesterday, on a whim.” WordPress.com community favorite Rarasaur on grief, loss, and what we do to see if we can still feel.
-
“But after the birth of our daughter . . . struggling for balance in our careers and adult lives and family responsibilities, I have come to understand both intimacy and marriage in new ways. Sometimes, intimacy isn’t closeness but distance.”
-
Mother and Daughter: An (In)Complete History of (Almost) Suicide
“Suicide was not a ‘truth’ I held dear. . . . With help and effort, I have learned to distinguish between my own, actual beliefs and that other voice that is just a misfire occurring in my brain.” Amy Bee discovers that she doesn’t want to die.
-
In Rio’s Slums, Gangs, Drugs, Murders Carry the Day
A Rio native photographs life in the deadly slums of the 2016 Olympic host city. “And stuck right in the middle of it, you’ve got the residents of the slums, 99 percent of whom are honest, hardworking people who have nothing to do with the gangs.” Editor’s note: graphic content.
-
Things Could Have Been Different
“You are gone, and, although others share nearly your exact same story, by some twist of fate they are alive, and you are not.” A year later, a mother writes about her newborn son’s death.
-
He died while I was off Facebook, and news had not reached me by any other channel. But there it was. Out of nowhere and without warning my browser was haunted by the very real presence of death. Momento mori.
-
Strange Ducks: A Poem by Lindsay Tigue
At The Sundress Blog, a funeral-inspired poem by Lindsay Tigue: “The Romans / built aqueducts to carry water / from the source. Why can’t I / hang curtains that won’t fall down?”
-
Volcano
“…after all that, you couldn’t not be in a little bit of love.” From “Volcano,” an excerpt from The Narrow Door, a memoir of long-term relationships by Paul Lisicky.
-
Eroding into Beauty
“My Mom’s hands were like the Grand Canyon. Speckled russet from the sun. Gorged from the work ethic of West Virginia hills. Gnarled from the pain of so many Midwestern storms.” A personal reflection by Mary Davenport on life, the death of her mother, and the beauty and destruction of nature.
-
“For a time I felt like the unhappiest guy in the world, using all sorts of drugs to cope with the simple reality I had yet to find: That everyone hurts. Everyone is dealing with something. Yes, it took a show on HBO to teach me that. It was Garry Shandling’s show.”
-
I Am The Passenger
“This — staring down Death’s black mouth every day while we pretend everything will be just fine — this and opposable thumbs separate us from animals.” In the throes of depression, one blogger considers her most profound fear.
-
Dissolving the Dead
Green to the end? Why bio-cremation might just be the next big thing.
Death Filter
