Has this poem touched you? When my grandma left me I was so lonely. December 25 is the day she died.
The day I lost my baby Comments Trigger warning: Writing and posting this account is part of my process of dealing with my grief. Thanks for your grace as I pour it all out. Written sometime during the wee hours of April They took her from me today.
I knew it had to be so. Her body remained, but her heart stood still, silent. It was only a few weeks ago that we saw her heart beating strong on that precious black screen.
The flicker brought confidence. But for days I had felt empty. For days I pushed thoughts away, taking comfort in the absence of scarlet.
Yet I remained in the fog of a fear unspoken. Two days ago I broke my silence to confide in Ryan: And now, clothed in a faded blue gown they wheeled me to the operating theater, ceiling tiles and florescent lights passing endlessly above me. After two days of suffocating sobbing and groaning and trying to breathe my body was weak and exhausted and my eyes were near swollen shut anyway.
I was tired of crying, of feeling. I longed to be numb. But numbness never came. A nurse squeezed my hand. I thought of Ryan alone in the waiting room. They fumbled with needles and veins and triple- and quadruple-checked my name and date of birth and had me verify signatures on consent forms.
I kept right on crying. Was that really only yesterday? No, not now as they prepared to take her. At some point you begin to wonder if there are any tears left. But composure is for acceptance speeches and job interviews and thoughtful conflict resolution. I blinked as soft tears continued down my cheeks and rolled onto my neck, while kind and caring doctors and nurses met me with eyes of compassion and extended soft voices as they instructed me on what was about to take place.
Why does there always seem to be one?
What difference does it make? She snapped when I asked to know the gender of our baby. It makes no difference. Why do you need to know? My jaw dropped in disbelief and I could feel the cold stares of the others in the room toward her — willing the young surgeon to stop before I became completely undone.
It makes no difference, she snapped again.Our two granddaughters call their paternal grandparents “Nani & Papa”. My husband and I are “MomMom (or MaMa) and Papi”.
The terms “Grandma and Grandpa” were already taken by my mother and father, the girls’ beloved great grandparents. My grandma’s recipe for banana nut bread – a classic banana bread recipe packed full of chopped walnuts that bakes up super moist and dense.
A family favorite! Growing up, there was never a lack of things to eat at my grandma’s house. There were tins filled with pizzelle and biscotti that were. Old GrandMa Tube - Long Good Granny Movies.
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This site has a zero-tolerance policy against illegal pornography. Lost in Yonkers is a play by Neil feelthefish.com play won the Pulitzer Prize for Drama. Sep 13, · My mother -- who, after I came out, was disappointed, angry, and embarrassed by her gay son -- turned to my Mom-Mom for support, and in turn my Mom-Mom turned to .
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