The holiday season can be a particularly difficult time for bereaved individuals because it is supposed to be a celebratory occasion when family and friends come together with great joy... But for those in mourning, it often brings home the realization that things will never be the same.
When something as tragic as suicide happens in your life, it's as if you now have a huge, heavy weight on your shoulders. Over time, the weight may not get lighter, but your shoulders get stronger.
My sister and I sit in my parent's bedroom as my mom looks through her sari(s), gently touching the fabric and examining the borders of each almost as if she is looking at a collection of dolls, elephants or other knickknacks that someone collects.
As Kathleen reminded me, I need to stop killing off my mother. I have the rest of my life to grieve after she dies. For today, all Mom wants is for me to be with her... now.
It's been 19 months since Mom died. As I reflect on the weeks and months following Mom's suicide, I realize how precariously my life hung in the balance. Back then I couldn't envision a day when the color, focus, or meaning would return to my world.
Death represents the ultimate unknown, a territory in which we have no experience and no control. So it is natural to feel fear when we think about death and also natural to avoid those thoughts whenever possible.
It's 8 a.m. on a Saturday, and I'm standing under a heavy sky in a muddy yard behind a three-story structure of hand-hewn limestone in the middle of nowhere. Everything feels wrong.
What Brittany did for Compassion & Choices, and for you and me, far exceeds what any one person might ordinarily have done. Hers was an extraordinary demonstration of how to live, and die.
My grandmother will forever be a proud woman. She had such pride for her family and friends, her children and grandchildren, her nieces and nephew and everyone in between. My grandmother, ever the socialite, would take me by the hand and introduce me to her friends.
We parents now had to face talking with our children about death. Our kids have already suffered loss due to divorce. But this is just... so much bigger. I wanted to share this with anyone struggling with how to talk to a child about the death of a loved one. I hope it helps.
I couldn't sleep the other night. Went downstairs with a book that I wasn't enjoying, or at least a book I was experiencing in a different way, not an ordinary way.
I built my sixth Hope After Project in memory of Carla, my best friend's mom, who battled colon cancer for many years. Carla was fortunate enough to be able to live at home while undergoing treatment.
Planning for digital assets will ensure your privacy is protected, preserve your personal history, and make things easier for your personal representative and family.
None of us will "get out of here alive." So why not work as hard as we possibly can to transform the culture of dying in America from one of fear and pain and anxiety and excessive spending of health care dollars, to one of acceptance and understanding?
Surely there is a better way for Christian discourse than to resort to serious accusations of godlessness towards those who may have an alternative opinion, even if that opinion is in the minority.
Her son was feeding her like she was a little baby. A hospital cafeteria-issued tuna fish sandwich sat atop a soggy swatch of cellophane on the palm ...
An excellent death as the capstone to a life well lived requires some forethought and planning. But what if a patient is unresponsive and has not previously expressed or documented his/her wishes? The "15-Minute Test" is a helpful guide for those who have to make end-of-life decisions on behalf of their loved ones.
I am really old, and I know death is imminent. Most of my friends have passed away, and of those remaining, they suffer from health problems in some way. I am myself totally deaf and partially blind. I live by myself. I am writing this at 6 a.m. in the morning.
Beyond green burials, recent years have seen a wave of entrepreneurs offering creative options for those who choose cremation.
It's war torn and sepia-colored now, parchment like, but the little scrap of paper containing this verse has long been a treasure of mine, a template for any poem I write.