grief Tag Archive

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A Writer’s Blessing.

Breadman's Daughter| Views: 214

I walk my ginger cookie dog Rusty every morning in the hour just before dawn. It’s a sweet time. A gift from heaven. Peaceful. Quiet. A writer’s blessing. The hush before the...

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Farewell Friend.

Breadman's Daughter| Views: 563

It’s starting to happen. Truth is, it’s been happening all along this life’s journey of mine. But now there’s a sweetness to it. An undeniable inevitable essence that...

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Anticipation. A Short Short Story.

Breadman's Daughter| Views: 868

The young girl waits eagerly by the window for her mother to return from Christmas shopping. Two police officers approach the house....

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Godspeed Bessie.

Breadman's Daughter| Views: 1055

On the day before 94-year old Bessie died, she announced to her younger son Larry that she was breaking out. Clear out of the blue. A declaration of independence so foreign to her...

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You Could Die Waiting.

Breadman's Daughter| Views: 777

I have a big patience muscle.  I haven’t always.  But the older I get the bigger it grows.  It was tested fully those tedious grey hours that we sat waiting for a doctor in...

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Walking the Tightrope.

Breadman's Daughter| Views: 808

While Ma was lingering in her last weeks, and then days on Earth, I was walking a tightrope. It was surreal. Dreamlike most of the time. It was a delicate balance. How do you keep...

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How I Learned to Meditate.

Breadman's Daughter| Views: 807

I learned to meditate while Ma was dying. If she had died suddenly. Or in another place. At a different time. I’d probably have a different story to tell. As an enduring student...

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Missed Conversations.

Breadman's Daughter| Views: 789

As I was driving into work last week a Jim Croce tune came on the radio. I’ll Have To Say I Love You in a Song. I was reminded of what a lovely and gifted songwriter he was and...

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We Are The Champions.

Breadman's Daughter| Views: 817

On Halloween night I was driving home from work when I passed a little girl who was out trick-or-treating with her mom.  She was about six years old and dressed as a Princess. ...

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My Mother’s Hands.

Breadman's Daughter| Views: 844

I miss Ma.  Sharing cups of tea.  Or lingering conversations on a quiet summer evening.  Laughing until we cried.  Long walks through the neighborhood.  Enjoying the pleasure...

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