Double Sifted

This is the part of pet ownership that nobody wants to think about.

This is the part of pet ownership that nobody wants to think about. Every critter you love will get old or sick or hurt, one or the other. If we want to tame them, and live with them, we’ve made them dependent on us, and we face the possibility of having to make this hard decision.
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Categories: Cat, Pet, Death, Euthanasia

And from crazy Celt to dying Jew I did the only thing I knew Sang “Are you right there, Ruby, are you right?”

Categories: Death, Nursing, Compassion

Well its true I did in fact kick my fathers casket, but in all honesty he deserved it. Who tries to yell at a dead guy right? I do, and this is the story why.

Categories: Death, Love, Father, Mother, Grief

His wallet. You have to open these things that have always been a place you do not go. But you are there–a tiny picture from long ago.

Categories: Marriage, Death, Mourning

One of the toughest decisions of my life happened in the past two weeks when I decided to end my love affair with motorcycle riding.

Categories: Love, Motorcycles, Death

Not long ago, Beverly was cuddling on my lap and told me that when I was old and dead by then she was going to paint my skin black so that everyone would know I was her mommy.

Categories: Parenting, Death, Race, Adoption

I had to talk to my Dad at his bedside in the ICU, with machines attached, hoping that he could hear me. I feel like I never really got to tell him everything I should have.

Categories: Death, Father, Mourning, Coping, Gratitude

There she was, bedridden, her lungs failing, her mind slowly going to sleep, and she said those kind words. I’m going to try to hold on to that, to the good in her, to her toughness, to her quick mind

Categories: Death, Mourning

There are little secrets I know about people I’ve never met, or even spoken to. Not just any people, the ones that have lost children

Categories: Love, Mother, Parenting, Daughter, Death, Memory

Every so often (like tonight), I’ll be hit with a wave of sadness. I’ll hear a corny joke he would’ve liked or I’ll simply have the urge to call and say hello.

Categories: Death, Mourning, Grief, Daughter, Father

My mother’s candle glowed a few feet from an oddly affecting stone statue of one of time’s most celebrated mothers, Mary

Categories: Mother, Daughter, Death, Mourning, Grief, Faith

The thing about funny people, that is, if they're really funny, they're funny 'til the day they die. Such was the case with my dad.

Categories: Death, Father, Daughter

Somehow, I have always had this delusion in the back of my mind that my mother is immortal. That she would be here, kicking someone’s ass, long after I had died and turned to dust.

Categories: Mother, Son, Death, Dying, Family, Acceptance

Mommy, is Papa STILL dead? (Sounding aggrieved that Papa hasn’t gotten over this “dead” thing yet.)

Categories: Parenting, Grandfather, Son, Death, Mother

When it was done, we stood, silent, watching the current take my mother downstream, watching as she became one with rock and water, silt and moss.

Categories: Mother, Daughter, Death, Mourning

The way I see it, stopping trains takes grit, building a ranch requires more than a little ambition, but raising a family will tear your heart out.

Categories: Family, Mother, Grandmother, Death

You forgiving me when you shouldn’t have, when you should have chugged wine and made out with my best friend and thrown a rock through my window.

Categories: Memory, Love, Death

Male attention was giving me power and energy. I had long held the idea of a Day of the Dead ritual for Gavin, a more personal memorial than the one we did at church

Categories: Mourning, Ritual, Death, Friendship

We never got to bring her the shrimp we promised her, but that stubborn woman’s last words to my wife were ‘move’ as she was trying to escape from her hospital bed.

Categories: Grandmother, Death, Family

I tell myself it's because Megan had a cold and I did not want to endanger his fragile immune system, but what kind of person doesn't go to see her dying father on Father's Day?

Categories: Daughter, Father, Death

I remember her telling me with clarity and force that I should expect to be surprised by who could handle Gavin’s illness and that my friendships would reorganize themselves

Categories: Marriage, Friendship, Illness, Death

That's right, I'm saying, "Fuck you, Cancer" by giving myself skin cancer. Go figure that logic right out, I dare you.

Categories: Death, Mourning, Friendship

So I drove to the station and put gas in my car and made it all the way down to the shore where I joined my family in helping my father die. And I couldn't have done it without that surly guy, in the navy blue suit, who didn't really want to help me, but did anyway.

Categories: Family, Father, Daughter, Death

Needless to say, that haircut did not save my marriage. I did not fault her or the haircut.

Categories: Friendship, Marriage, Divorce, Death, Father, Daughter

Today the grief was like a magician's black bag. I reached in and I don’t know what I will pull out, anger, tears, or a smile at a memory.

Categories: Grief, Marriage, Death

Here David was. An amazing dad and yet he was not going to get to see his son grow up.

Categories: Parenting, Mother, Father, Son, Cancer, Death, Widow, Love

Mike recently said his Mom probably couldn’t even explain why she always disliked me, and in retrospect I think I increased her contempt of me by misguidedly trying so hard to get her to like me.

Categories: Death, Mother-In-Law, Mourning

This is us without you, Chris. Today, Ian missed you.

Categories: Love, Death, Parenting

My Mom, once a strong and powerful figure in my life, lay crumpled and invisible within the folds of the the blankets.

Categories: Mother, Mourning, Death

During one of my regular Sunday phone calls, a few years before she died, my mother bemoaned her rapidly fading grasp on reality.

Categories: Death, Love, Mother, Daughter

Death

And from crazy Celt to dying Jew I did the only thing I knew Sang “Are you right there, Ruby, are you right?”

Well its true I did in fact kick my fathers casket, but in all honesty he deserved it. Who tries to yell at a dead guy right? I do, and this is the story why.

His wallet. You have to open these things that have always been a place you do not go. But you are there–a tiny picture from long ago.

One of the toughest decisions of my life happened in the past two weeks when I decided to end my love affair with motorcycle riding.

Not long ago, Beverly was cuddling on my lap and told me that when I was old and dead by then she was going to paint my skin black so that everyone would know I was her mommy.

I had to talk to my Dad at his bedside in the ICU, with machines attached, hoping that he could hear me. I feel like I never really got to tell him everything I should have.

There she was, bedridden, her lungs failing, her mind slowly going to sleep, and she said those kind words. I’m going to try to hold on to that, to the good in her, to her toughness, to her quick mind

There are little secrets I know about people I’ve never met, or even spoken to. Not just any people, the ones that have lost children

Every so often (like tonight), I’ll be hit with a wave of sadness. I’ll hear a corny joke he would’ve liked or I’ll simply have the urge to call and say hello.

My mother’s candle glowed a few feet from an oddly affecting stone statue of one of time’s most celebrated mothers, Mary

The thing about funny people, that is, if they're really funny, they're funny 'til the day they die. Such was the case with my dad.

Somehow, I have always had this delusion in the back of my mind that my mother is immortal. That she would be here, kicking someone’s ass, long after I had died and turned to dust.

Mommy, is Papa STILL dead? (Sounding aggrieved that Papa hasn’t gotten over this “dead” thing yet.)

When it was done, we stood, silent, watching the current take my mother downstream, watching as she became one with rock and water, silt and moss.

The way I see it, stopping trains takes grit, building a ranch requires more than a little ambition, but raising a family will tear your heart out.

You forgiving me when you shouldn’t have, when you should have chugged wine and made out with my best friend and thrown a rock through my window.

Male attention was giving me power and energy. I had long held the idea of a Day of the Dead ritual for Gavin, a more personal memorial than the one we did at church

We never got to bring her the shrimp we promised her, but that stubborn woman’s last words to my wife were ‘move’ as she was trying to escape from her hospital bed.

I tell myself it's because Megan had a cold and I did not want to endanger his fragile immune system, but what kind of person doesn't go to see her dying father on Father's Day?

I remember her telling me with clarity and force that I should expect to be surprised by who could handle Gavin’s illness and that my friendships would reorganize themselves

That's right, I'm saying, "Fuck you, Cancer" by giving myself skin cancer. Go figure that logic right out, I dare you.

So I drove to the station and put gas in my car and made it all the way down to the shore where I joined my family in helping my father die. And I couldn't have done it without that surly guy, in the navy blue suit, who didn't really want to help me, but did anyway.

Needless to say, that haircut did not save my marriage. I did not fault her or the haircut.

Today the grief was like a magician's black bag. I reached in and I don’t know what I will pull out, anger, tears, or a smile at a memory.

Here David was. An amazing dad and yet he was not going to get to see his son grow up.

Mike recently said his Mom probably couldn’t even explain why she always disliked me, and in retrospect I think I increased her contempt of me by misguidedly trying so hard to get her to like me.

This is us without you, Chris. Today, Ian missed you.

My Mom, once a strong and powerful figure in my life, lay crumpled and invisible within the folds of the the blankets.

During one of my regular Sunday phone calls, a few years before she died, my mother bemoaned her rapidly fading grasp on reality.

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