Your Stories

In the final months of my Dad's life, one of my brothers looked at me and asked, “Do you have to write so much?” His question took me aback, and, after thinking for a second, I responded with, “Yes, I have to write; writing is my way.” I added, “Writing is the way I try to make sense of all of this,...
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How do we commemorate a wedding anniversary when the two people are no longer together? How do we mark a day that was once a joy-filled and loving commemoration and celebration? I suppose, like most things, we pause, we remember, and we allow our hearts to grieve for what once was and what now is. You...
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Wild Darkness By Eva Saulitis For twenty-six Septembers I’ve hiked up streams littered with corpses of dying humpbacked salmon. It is nothing new, nothing surprising, not the stench, not the gore, not the thrashing of black humpies plowing past their dead brethren to spawn and die. It is familiar; still,...
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When my father was in his final days, he and mother went to the Severn Hospice – Shrewsbury in England. The level of care and compassion that they both had was amazing; nothing seemed to be too much trouble for the staff. Initially father was in a single room and the staff would wheel in a second bed...
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