Judith Viorst Remembers Those She Loved Who are Gone - But Very Much Remembered

The incomparable Judith Viorst, author of classic books for children and Necessary Losses for adults, writes in Moment Magazine about the people she loved who are no longer here, and what remembering them means. 

An excerpt:

As I count the dead, my coulda’s and shoulda’s besiege me: I should have sat with Clara and heard her stories. I should have held my baby before he died. I could have been a more welcoming sister to Lois and not been such a meanie when she cried. I could have invited my in-laws to please come inside and stay a whole week instead of a weekend. I could have made more room in my heart—and made more time in my life—for the people who came knocking at my door. I could have mustered more grace and more good humor as I barreled through my kids-career-marriage days. I could have treated my “To-Do” list as something less, far less, than a sacred document. And although I figured out some of this in time to mend my ways, the regrets I have to live with, I’ll have to live with.

Courageous Conversations: Dementia and Dying with Dignity

"He was looking at me with love" -- A Dying Man is Comforted By a Ghost

 From The Washington Post: 

A dying WWII veteran is comforted by a ghost in this touching story from a social worker. The man says that during the war after a terrible loss he saw a ghost at the foot of his bed, looking at him with love.  More than 70 years later, deeply depressed, even suicidal, he says he has seen the ghost again. 

“He’s back,” he whispers, staring out the window. “Saw him last night on the foot of my bed. He spoke this time.”

“What’d he say?”

“He told me he was here with me. He’s going to help me over the hill when it’s time to go.”

Nichole Chung: I Thought I'd Get to See My Mother Again. Then the Pandemic Hit

Nicole Chung writes about mourning her mother in a time of COVID-19.

 

This year on my mother’s birthday, in October, I woke up from one of many dreams I’ve had about her since her death. I’d been sitting with family and friends in my grandmother’s backyard, our lawn chairs scattered across a carpet of sun-dappled grass. We were all talking, sharing memories of my mom. I don’t remember the specific stories, but I know there was joy, more laughter than tears—even though, in my dream, my mom was also gone.

Like so many grieving families in 2020, we haven’t been able to gather or mourn together. My mother died of cancer in May, and my husband, kids and I had to watch the small funeral service via livestream from across the country.  

...

Since she died, many people have asked me if I feel a lack of “closure” because of all the moments missed. My father died 2½ years ago, and I was at his funeral, and I still don’t feel anything like closure. It’s an open wound. It always will be.

 

 

I Thought I'd Get to See My Mother Again. Then the Pandemic Hit

5 Reasons Why Grieving the Death of a Parent is Hard

Embracing Grief

Rosanne Cash on Grief