Kate
My dog died tonight and I cried longer and harder than I did when my Grandpa passed.
My dog died tonight and I cried longer and harder than I did when my Grandpa passed.
There should have been one more stocking hanging from the mantle, a few more ornaments on the tree with your name on the back, and a few more brightly wrapped presents addressed to you.
I watched her tiny tummy sucking in, her skin pulling tight against her ribs, her hand involuntarily closing on my index finger as she struggled for every breath, and I thought, "One day, is one day too much to ask?"
As I was being wheeled into emergency surgery, under the haze of a morphine-induced dream, I wholeheartedly believed I was going to my death, and I was truly horrified.
My uncle's secret of being a trans-sexual was revealed when the undertaker referred to him as "he/she."
As I lay in bed, wailing and sobbing after hearing news of the horrible accident, you were across the country sending an e-mail telling me not to be so sensitive and upset.
Since he died, I haven't been able to enjoy hugs at all.
I've slept with a fan on every night for the past 13 years, 7 months, and 14 days.
25 years later, I still feel guilty for shooting that leopard frog in the head with my BB gun.
All the growling and screaming in the world will never sound as horrible as the gurgling sound made by my mother's last breath.
I hadn't known joy until my daughter was born, and I didn't know sorrow until she died.
Let us hope that the man I saw swerve into a big rig survives to read this sentence.
I only have 70 days left to live, but I'm looking for a job anyway.
Everyone knows me as Jessica, but he knows me as the girl who actually wept with him when his frog died.
It was only after my mom drew her last breath that it occurred to me to ask her how I was going to get through this without her.
I can't tell what's worse: the death of the boy who pulled down his underwear in front of me in the first grade or feeling terrible every time I tell people about the first time I ever saw a penis.
The same night my brother died, a church burned down across the city and my sister-in-law disappeared without a word.
When the pastor told us we'd be waiting 10 more minutes to start the funeral services because the line was still down the block, I knew that the world was missing someone who was starting to make a difference.
Opening my eyes after nodding off for a second, I saw my dad exhale his last breath.
We sat in the graveyard for 20 minutes, nothing scary happened, and we decided we shall be cremated when we die.
How do you pray for a heart for a sick little girl when you know it's like hoping for someone else's child to die?
I stumbled upon a DVD of yours in our collection and put it aside to give back, only to find out moments later that you were dead.
I know you squeezed my hand back when you were in that coma.
Each time I buckle my young daughters life jacket, I can still see her mom, running, screaming across the sand as they try and revive her.
You made your sister an only child after the "Half of My Heart is in Iraq" sticker on your truck became untrue.
I have a clock in my living room that my dad loved and it stopped on the day he died at the exact time of his death.
The last thing I saw before the shrapnel hit us was my buddy, Ryan, smiling at me while saying, "Relax or you'll die all tense."
As I held my son back while he was screaming at his dead mother, I had the strangest feeling I had seen this exact scene in a movie.
I really think that if he didn't die in the plane crash, my grandmother and mother would have turned out so differently.
Upon hearing of my father's death, I calmly noted that people really do drop the phone when they hear bad news.
As the man sitting next to me on the plane bragged about how he had died three times, I crossed my fingers and quietly prayed for us to land before number four.
A week after his death I got an email from my mother in law informing me that my father had hung himself in the basement of the house I grew up in, and she ended the letter with "I didn't call because I don't know how you would react to such terrible news."
Two years after he died, and my heart still jumps when I see a guy who looks like John.
I had never seen my father cry until he found my pet bunny Coco dead in my backyard.
I did not say goodbye to my Dad as he left for work the last time.
I braced myself, stoic and still as stone, as they wheeled your body into the room, and I didn't break down until I realized your long hair was still wet from the last shower you took.
When my neighbors' 4-year-old son died unexpectedly in his sleep, I wasn't suicidal anymore.
Up until I saw the man's legs sticking out from under the truck's trailer I had thought the woman's shrieking had been unmerited.
She often cries while watching him sleep, hands clasped on his chest, reminding her again of his sister's tiny corpse.
After crushing the tiny spider with a roll of painters tape I felt a sudden pang of guilt knowing that I had ended a life for no reason other than my own silly phobia.
The bluebird nest box that contained one egg, two baby birds, and one female bluebird this morning now stands empty as the male bluebird chirps, and chirps, and chirps some more as he seeks a new mate to start over with.
The only special thing I did for Earth Day was bury my cat in the back yard.
Because he killed himself, I was able to fall in love.
Over two months later and I still can't bring myself to delete his name from my phone
I was six when I woke up next to my grandma to find that she had died in her sleep.
If you've never seen your friend's baby girl wave goodbye to her daddy as his casket leaves the funeral, I want to be you.
My son announced cheerfully that his new sport activity never resulted in injuries - only deaths
A Google search was an awful way to find out my birth father was dead, but at least I found my birth mother.
When I found you sitting dead in your chair, my first thought was, "Who's going to give me away at my wedding?"
Had I known it would've been our last night together I wouldn't have cancelled our date.
For weeks after my beloved cat died he hung out in my peripheral vision, a fleeting orange streak in the corner of my eye, as though to assure me he was ok.
The sight of my usually stoic mother weeping on the lid of her brother's casket is one I wish I could have gone a lifetime without seeing.
I told my boss that when my dog died I would need a week of for a death in the family.
I was 14 when I grasped my fathers lifeless hand and realized I didn't hate him after all.
She starved herself, and hurt herself, and now she's dead and all I can think is, "She never even got to have a first real kiss".
I was 3 and then I was 10 and now I'm 19 and more lost than I ever imagined I could be.
About the dumbest thing you can say about an embalmed body at a funeral is that they "look good," but that is what everyone kept saying.
My father died when I was six and the day after, I wrote in my diary that I was feeling better.
It was better to have 23 years with a wonderful mom than 53 years with a lousy one.
I couldn't tear my eyes away from the chair, still warm, as they carted your body away.
I slammed my body into the hood of my truck on the night you died and the dent is still there.
Over the last month, the cold reality of life has struck since one uncle died, another uncle had a stroke, my mother found out she has breast cancer and my grandmother is on her way to an assisted living facility.
Instead of him they sent back a folded flag, and when I was alone I tore it to pieces.
The best hug I ever got was just before I found out one of my friends was dead.
On her deathbed, she reached for my hand despite not knowing exactly who I was and with a thin but honest smile, asked, "However did you escape?"
They had swaddled the newborn so it appeared to be sleeping, and as I walked by the crying from the other side of the door, I found myself leaving to go hold my own newborn son.
I cried not because of the amount of the inheritance, but because I can't cash it in to bring her back.
Her first attempt at CPR shouldn't have to have been on her own mother.
My dad was slowly bleeding to death by the roadside some 100 meters away when I was washing the dishes for the first time in my life.
I saw my grandmother's death, the grandmother I had lived with until the seventh grade, as merely an opportunity to miss school.
My best friend hung himself on a Friday afternoon, and when I checked my cell phone the morning of his funeral I realized he had called me that day at 3:24PM.
My wife died eight days before her 35th birthday which would have been ten days ago.
I am so glad I got that chance to just hold him and talk to him and breathe in his little doggie smell.
Fred died less than sixteen hours after he attended our concert, after which he had repeatedly told us how well we'd done.
The nine year old said he had moved on from his best friend, who was killed by a falling branch a year ago, but as he stared at the spot where he died, I knew he hadn't.
That last night, Echo broke out of her cage, climbed into bed with me and waited for me to wake up.
We collectively realized she was gone when we sat down to eat our Thanksgiving dinner and realized that nobody made the gravy this year.
She cried so hard, I though the casket was going to fall over.
I never had the courage to talk to him when he was right upstairs but I drove for two days with no insurance to see him die the next day.
This morning while in the shower the ground shook, and I realized my greatest fear is to die naked.
During the 90 minutes he was in our arms, his mother and I loved him a lifetime.
My father died as I asked my grandmother why she was crying.
It's never like the movies...we pulled the plug and he took two hours to die.
When I arrived at the memorial site, I couldn't think of anything witty or poignent to write, so I just carved 'I miss you' into the telephone pole that killed you and went home.
When my phone rang, I expected to hear her voice, but all I heard was her mother crying and saying, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I didn't believe you."
I was never very close with my Grandfather, so it's no surprise that when he died and all my cousins received a cherished belonging of his, I got some socks.
Dad's been dead for six years and Mom died eight months ago, but my sister who was supposed to "take care of everything" just now got around to paying for their headstone.
The day my grandfather was diagnosed as HIV positive was the day my mother found out she was pregnant with me.
I watched the old VHS tapes of him filming the ocean for most of the night with the sudden realization that he was filming the ocean because it was the last time he would ever see it again.
Today in my embalming lab we sliced, injected, and sutured a woman who is my thriving grandmother's senior by only six days.
My dad died six years ago and I'm starting forget what he was like because it hurts too much for me to think about him.
It's been eight years this Thanksgiving, and they still sob over his death.
She meant it as a joke when she saw our downcast faces and asked "Who died?", but she didn't expect me to answer.
The 1/32nd dose of the experimental drug cut her cancer in half, and I can't help but wonder if she would be alive today if they would have just given her a full therapeutic dose.
My first kiss happened just months after my mother died.
To this day I still entertain the idea that my father's death was just an awful conspiracy.
I felt terrible telling my son that his second mouse "ran away" with the help of the first mouse who had done the same.
I find reasons why I can't visit his grave because I'm terrified it will make everything come rushing back.
After he died I've always avoided the cherry tree orchards.
When I called my friend after her husband died, I didn't think that she would end up consoling me.
I spend every day hoping someone in my community dies so that I can finish my 10-funeral-observation before I go back to school in August.
6 years ago today I could have died but didn't and no one seems to care but me.
He's dead, he's been dead 30 years, he will stay dead, deal with it and move on.
After I hadn't heard from you in a while, I looked you up, and found out you had died in a motorcycle accident eight months ago.
This morning, on my bedroom floor, lay a dying firefly, its light blinking on and off, still signaling for a mate.
Later, I would realize that I cried harder when my dog died than I did at Mom's funeral.