Stories tagged grief

What Was Here

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The sudden stillness in the screaming room.

Competing Demands

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Was there such a thing as sacred suicide?

The Anniversary

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.... The sun tears through the windshield as if it were an six-foot wide magnifying glass and for a moment it feels to them both as if they are in a manipulated universe of fire and ice, storm and heaven, as it does when the skies crack and spread open a

How To Find A Galaxy In The Dark

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I don't know what I'd expected from the week of mourning after my mother died but I sure hadn't pictured this marathon cocktail party. Our house is packed with people, food, booze and borrowed chairs. People I haven't seen in years keep turning up with casseroles.I'm…

803 Monroe

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I needed to call you butI'd forgotten your number,the one I always thoughtwas burned into my memory -for hours I anxiously thumbed throughwhite and yellow pages, forgettingthen remembering your name.Between the pages I could seeyour dining room, the floortile cracked like a…

Lady in the Cave

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Life strikes another blow and away I go: back to the cave to sleep, read, write, dream, soothed by rocking chair therapy, spend hours on hours looking at photo memories, lighting incense and candles, crying, howling out the injustices smothering me. …

Treasured Souls

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Oh, but we have lost-- such treasured souls, at immeasurable costs. Oh, but we do moan and cry-- such treasured souls, no tangible, useable reasons why. Oh, but we whose hearts do bleed-- such treasured souls, we…

Visions On The Beach

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I walked along the beach today, and there I saw them all; including the latest lost: little Tiven, Tommy, Michaela & my Paul. Grandma painted at her easel, set upon the dune. Uncle Eddie bent in half, laughing like a loon, Oliver growled…


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Sylvie grew up with ruins for playgrounds.

The Loss

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a bunch of flags lining the ground, like dead bodies

Tia Alvarez

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Penny followed the woman into the warm, dark interior of her home, which smelled strongly of cumin and other familiar spices she couldn’t name. Penny noted that the tia’s hair had turned almost completely white and had grown very long since Penny had last

Our Love

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I am tired of playing the old game: Saying something old in a new way. So let me do the opposite:

Three Sundays at The Grove

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Now, gazing into Greg’s expectant eyes, the only Chinese word Deepti could summon was kuei. Ghost. Before that summer, her mother flipped through the pages of Maxine Hong Kingston’s memoir every day, as if she could glean magic from the touch of her finge

On The Death of A Friend

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I heard today about your friend


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a special heaven