grief
Losing a family member is one of the most traumatic life events; Families must support one another to endure the five stages of grief and get through it together.
From Scholarship Winner to Wanted Man: The Path of the Kirk Shooting Suspect
In the conservative southern Utah city where Tyler Robinson grew up, neighbors and classmates described him as a reserved, intelligent young man raised in a Republican family who was deeply interested in video games, comic books and current events.
By MUHAMMAD Abbas7 months ago in Families
My Friends, My Friends.
We were a small group but we were tight. We all met around the same time, Todd was the first I had met in the 6th grade. Larry, Jeff, John, Dennis & I met a year later. Dennis stood out as he had a full beard in 7th grade, (not even kidding). And upon meeting him I swore that he had been held back so much that he had to be 25, but he was our age. His father had been a Green Beret and had taught him a great deal about survival and hand to hand combat. We all gravitated towards him for this reason as we had a strange fascination for the Vietnam war and those that had served in it. This was around 1983 - '84 and I believe we did this as we all had at least one family member that either served in the war or had been affected by it in some way. But this also made us misfits in school as we were the only ones in camo and field jackets with some of the medals our relatives had given us pinned to he collars and combat patches on the sleeves. You could feel the looks and hear the conversations of some of the other kids that just didn't understand us at all. But we didn't care.
By John P. Creekmore7 months ago in Families
One last hug. Content Warning.
It's not very simple, this thing called grief. It's especially tricky when you face much of it seemingly frequently. My Grandfather was a quiet, reserved, military man. He had served in two branches of the armed forces before retiring from the Navy. There aren't many memories I have (especially growing up) that don't include him. He and my grandmother played integral roles in my childhood, given that my parents had to work so much because of my medical bills, etc. We went to the beach, he read me Aesop's fables from a beautifully illustrated book, and we went for walks. As I got older and began to play sports, he would pick me up for my flag football practices. We would always stop at a Wendy’s. He would order a salad, and I would have a kids' meal. He would give me the croutons from his salad, so when we got to the park, I could feed the ducks before the rest of the kids arrived because we were always early. This was our ritual for almost two years straight. I think he enjoyed that I wasn’t afraid to get dirty in the mud with the boys. I was the only girl on the team, and as I think back on it now, I think it might have made him proud that I tried. He went to every game, every recital, and even once when I received an award for writing the best D.A.R.E. essay in the county he and my grandmother were the only ones in attendance because my parents had to work.
By Lea Wilson 7 months ago in Families
When We Lost Her: How My Grandmother’s Passing Changed Our Family
The day my grandmother passed away is one I will never forget. It wasn’t just the loss of a person—it was the loss of a heartbeat that held us all together. The news spread like a quiet storm. Phones rang, whispers filled the air, and suddenly the entire family was moving in slow motion, stunned by the realization that our pillar was gone.
By Ian Munene7 months ago in Families
Grandpa’s Lost Journal
Grandpa’s Lost Journal The attic always smelled of cedar and dust, a place we rarely ventured, except when the old house creaked too loudly for sleep. That Sunday afternoon, my sister Lila and I were sent up to find some long-lost board games for our rainy-day plans. The sun slanted through the tiny attic window, illuminating cobwebs that hung like forgotten memories. Amid the stacks of faded suitcases and moth-eaten coats, something unusual caught my eye: a leather-bound journal, its edges frayed and cover etched with Grandpa’s initials.
By Numan writes7 months ago in Families
Her Father’s Shoes
Her Father’s Shoes Every morning, before the sun even stretched its fingers across the sleepy town, Laila slipped her small feet into a pair of worn leather shoes. They were too big for her, the toes curling awkwardly, the heels slapping against the floor as she walked. Yet, every time she wore them, she felt a little taller, a little braver, as though the weight of her father’s footsteps clung to her own.
By Numan writes7 months ago in Families
Lost in wonderland
Chapter 1: The Fog That Called The fog was thick that evening, curling around the houses as if it had secrets to hide. Nine-year-old Amara pressed her nose to the window, staring at the smoky world outside. Then she saw it—a flicker of golden light, darting in the mist like a candle flame.
By Hamid Khan7 months ago in Families
The Inheritance of Silence
My grandmother, Eleanor, was a woman carved from silence. It’s the only way I can think to describe her. In all the years I knew her, I’m not sure I ever heard her really, truly laugh—the kind that shakes your shoulders and makes your eyes water. Her smiles were thin, quick things that never quite reached her eyes, and her stories were about the weather or the rising price of groceries. When she died, I felt a polite, distant sadness, the kind you feel for the end of an era, not the sharp, gut-punch of losing someone you really knew.
By Abu Zar Khan7 months ago in Families
The House That Silence Built
My father wasn't a man who used a lot of words to say what he felt. He spoke a different language, one of sawdust, solder, and the six vibrating strings of his acoustic guitar. Our small house was never quiet. It was a living thing, its heartbeat the thrum of a Neil Young solo vibrating through the floorboards while I did my homework, its breath the smell of coffee brewing to a James Taylor ballad. He wasn't just playing songs; he was weaving the very fabric of our family with calloused fingers and a gentle touch, creating the soundtrack to scraped knees and celebratory dinners. That music was how I knew I was home.
By Abu Zar Khan7 months ago in Families
Deloitte American employee attacking Chinese Father-in-law with extreme offensive and political sensitive language
Deloitte US Employee attacking Cancer Dying Father-in-Law by writing: "Fucking wow you are a stupid, miserable piece of shit. If you try anything as idiotic as "contacting my employer" or blasting me on social media I will notify every applicable US and Chinese government agency I can find of your attempted extortion. ..I guess you will be OK though because the Chinese government is very lenient with criminal behavior right?"
By Charles Shi7 months ago in Families











