She couldn't bear to look at your bowls and bed anymore but I couldn't bear to see they were gone.
She couldn't bear to look at your bowls and bed anymore but I couldn't bear to see they were gone.
I hope it's not weird that I felt a sense of pride because I got a standing ovation when I finished delivering her eulogy.
It suddenly violently struck her that it only takes 2 people to carry a casket that small.
I cried more when Agent Scully came out of her coma than when my grandfather failed to come out of his.
Your story finished itself before I could lend a last breath to us while your ghost faded in the real chapters made of alzheimer's, cancer, divorce, and language barrier in my family's Vietnamese-American dream.
I remember when I was 13 years old, home alone, and I stood there shaking in the rain, as the dog who had been with me since I was a baby stared at me from the pool of her own blood.
I found it incredibly ironic that a few hours after I euthanized my beloved goldfish I received an e-mail congratulating me on my acceptance to veterinary school.
Survivors guilt tells me you died in my truck and that I could have saved you if I hadnt left Iraq.
I find it painfully ironic that my grandfather died on Grandparent's Day.
I was the only one who could swim and could've jumped in to save him in time, but I just stood there in shock and will now never forgive myself.
Five years and five phones later, I still add your number every time.
You saved one last little squeak for me as I picked you up for the last time.
I will never forget the way your little nose twitched immediately after the vet said, "He's gone," as if it was your last act of defiance.
There is nothing worse than seeing kids carrying a kids coffin.
A hospice nurse I work with told our patient that he looks "like death warmed over" and thinks it's okay because it was a joke.
Out of 10 great-grandchildren, I was the only one my great-grandfather ever met.
She never invited me to her father's funeral because she didn't think I knew him well enough but I never told her that, when she was at boarding school, I used to play chess with him every Saturday at 2:00 and lose.
My aunt was disgusted I cried harder for the death of my dog than I did for my grandmother, but she didn't realize my dog was in my life for 16 years while grandma was only around for seven.
It wasn't until I saw the first tear roll off his cheek that day in the hospital that I realized I wasn't just losing my Mother, but his little girl too.
Sitting around that hospital bed sharing a Thanksgiving meal with my family, I never realized that would be the last time I would see my mom.
We visited him in the hospital over 100 times during the last 14 years, but the one time we didn't go was the one time it counted.
When I almost killed myself, you licked the tears from my face and when you died, I held your cold paw and tried not to cry.
When my fiance left me a message that he had "bad news about the car," the last thing I expected it to be was that my mechanic had died that day, taking my keys and the secret of my Honda Civic with him to his grave.
The definition of perspective is that moment after a seven-year-old dying of cancer asks if you're ok.
The day our Uncle was crushed by a forty foot machine, my mother and brother could not stop discussing how cool it would be if he came back as a zombie while looking at his body and making arrangements for it at the funeral home.
I thought my college crush and next-door neighbour was just sick until they called a dorm floor meeting.
Less than a year later, a cop in my health class was making an example of him by saying how stupid he was.
After mom told me my grandmother was dead, I investigated the case to see if it was true just to figure out the person who texted her giving her the information texted the wrong number.
The man who drove drunk was released on a $102,000 bail, but the man he killed is still dead in the ground.
What hurt worst was that the newspaper didn't even have the decency to spell a dead girl's name right.
We don't have the heart to tell my Mom that our Dad kept asking for her on the morning he died.
Because they don't let children in the ICU, I colored in the waiting room while he told my mother, "She won't remember me."
All my mom's kids have two middle names, but one of mine comes from a woman whose son set the fire that killed her in her sleep.
While everyone else threw their caps in the air for graduation, I sat and worried that my mom wouldn't still be alive when I got back to the hospital.
I'm mourning the loss of my little brother because the "friends" who invited him to the party are the same ones who gave him the drugs and left him there to die.
After hearing a colleague describe being shaken up after watching a homeless man die earlier that day, we sat in the break room telling morbid death jokes for half an hour.
His old, worn-out pair of Wellington boots haven't moved from their spot on the back porch in 10 years.
When my son was 5, he cried so hard when I told him he would one day die, but he cried much harder when I told him he'd be in school until he was 18.
When I walked into my Grandpa's house I thought a bag of frozen blueberries melted on the floor, only for it to be revealed as a puddle of his own blood.
The last thing my grandpa said to me before his death is that his biggest regret in life is being a Buffalo Bills fan.
I will always wonder what my grandfather would've written, had he known that glittery, four dollar card would be the last thing he'd ever communicate to me.
As they shovelled the earth over his grave, I tried to swallow back the fear that one day he might crawl out of there to come and get me.
As the beeping turned to a flat tone, a tear rolled down her face, as if to tell us that she would miss us too.
I figured I'd be alright after comforting my grief counselor while they cried after talking about the death of my father.
My only memory of my dad is being held up to wave goodbye to the ambulance which took him to the hospital where he died.
The 5 words that will hunt me forever are: "Go faster, I dare you."
While they were fighting over my grandmother's furniture, I was sitting on her bed, looking at the pictures I had sent her of England, finally understanding that she was really gone.
I was laying next to her when she took her last breath, and now I can't seem to catch mine.
Her four-year-old daughter turned to me from her spot in the tree and said, "Climbing trees is more fun than losing mothers."
I wanted to cover my ears and block out what sounded like an animal in pain, but it was more important to squish my little sister against me and prevent her from hearing our mother die.
Even as you sobbed, we were all silently cheering the night your boyfriend died.
There was nothing to do but watch helplessly as the young, drunk Marine stomped the chicken to death in the backyard.
I was excited that on my last day of high school I would be able to sleep in until my brother woke me up at the regular time to let me watch my dog, who I had had since kindergarten, die as I stroked her little ears.
They suspected we were at the graveyard because it was Halloween, but when I pointed to the date on the tombstone the guard looked remorseful and told me to stay.
The sidewalks and doors were covered in blood, and I still wonder why no one called 911 and saved my brother.
One week after my niece was born to my seventeen-year-old sister, the father hung himself.
I learned that night that sometimes when a person threatens to commit suicide, they aren't bluffing.
My mom and I had never laughed as much as we did that night I told her I used to be suicidal.
My cousin and I were two years old, playing tag around the coffee table, not understanding why all the grown-ups were crying.
He always said we had "the world's longest running unrequited internet love" after 16 years of online friendship and flirting, but we never thought it'd be forever.
After reading a box of old greeting cards from my parents, I realized for the first time that the only card my Dad ever signed "Love, Dad" was the last one he ever gave me before he unexpectedly died.
After I explained what I was doing at 2am on the computer, my husband reminded me that it's not normal to email a dead person on a regular basis.
Her mom was the one who died and she asked me if I was okay.
My great-grandmother said hello to her long dead sister, smiled, and closed her eyes
I am ashamed that it took my daughter writing "therapy" on her birthday wishlist for me to realize that she needed help.
Three years ago he was my fiance and today he was found naked, bloody, and alone in his apartment two weeks after anyone had seen him and who knows how many days after his death.
My first child was born on Christmas day, just in time for her great great grandfather to see her on his death bed.
The day my beloved cat died, my best friend asked me, "Well, did he leave you something in the will?" and my day was a whole lot better.
If my brother were not already dead I would kill him for what he has done to our family.
I wept when I found her keys tossed on the coffee table.
My patient's last words before he died, surrounded by family, were: "I feel so loved right now."
Upon seeing how upset my mother became over the death of our dog, I realized how much I would have devastated her if my suicide attempt had succeeded.
The night before my dad died, I rolled my eyes and gave an exasperated sigh when he asked me to go to the kitchen and get him a glass of water, but I can't remember if I told him that I loved him.
Watching my mother lean over my father's coffin to kiss him and tell him goodbye was the most painful moment of my entire life.
The very first person to ask me for my autograph killed herself a week later, and I will never forget her.
I had the privilege of sitting with Dad as the pain, fear and confusion went away and his breathing became quieter and quieter, and I shared in a little of the peace that came over him then.
My dad's last note to me was "Always hear the music in your life."
My grandma was waiting for my dad to take her to the hairdresser, but when he didn't show she went up to his room only to find empty wine bottles, pills, and him dead on the couch.
I was laying in bed snuggling with my 6 month old son when my brother called crying hysterically that his wife had just died in a car accident, leaving him a widow with 5 little kids to raise on his own.
I wonder what their lives are like now, whether they're happy, and if they ever let themselves remember the night in 1981 when they were drunk and ran that Volkswagen van off the road playing "chicken."
The only year I refused to go to my neighbor's Easter party was the year she dropped dead during the party.
The day we brought our newborn daughter home from the hospital, our dog got hit by a car and died.
When I asked him how his day had been my father shrugged and said "It was okay," in a non-committal way, because we were still ten minutes from home, and only then would he feel able to tell me my brother had been killed.
I thought he loved work more than me, but after he died I found out that my name was his work computer password.
My husband, my dog, and my mom all died in the same month due to separate, unrelated house fires.
I asked my cousin on Facebook how her brother-in-law was doing after his heart surgery, only to find out he died this morning after his heart stopped three times.
As I spoon-fed my Grandfather what would be his last meal, I already knew it'd be a moment I would never forget, despite him being so drugged that he thought I was my mother.
My Mum, Dad and twin sister were killed in a plane crash, but if they hadn't been, I would never have met my brother.
An article in a flimsy fashion magazine helped me realize the depth of my problems the way no counseling had ever done.
My sister completely skipped her birthday to die the next day on mine.
I'm so glad you licked the tears off my face before you died.
Losing my infant daughter was the most pain I've ever been in; her organs saving two babies was the balm that helped my healing and provided hope.
It took several visits to the cemetery before I realized that when my father started digging around my sister's headstone, he was going to put stones under it to keep it from sinking and wasn't going to dig her up.
A wave of guilt came over me as I watched the moth struggle in the spiderweb after it had be derailed from its path by the smoke I exhaled.
While helping the dying woman to find her son, I just had to break the law.
Make up your mind: do you want me to visit my dying grandmother or clean my room?
My husband handed me his cell phone at a party so someone else could tell me that my best friend had just died.
My mom died this morning, leaving me feeling like an almost half-century-old orphan.
Tonight I washed my dead grandfather's shirts and my silky underwear in the same load of laundry.
If she held on for 20 more days, she would have seen me graduate.
I only told them about my tattoo so they could identify my body if necessary.
I became bitter about the whole thing when the story in the newspaper was more about how the family had lost their fruit stand and less about how the fruit stand crushed you to death.
Everytime I stare at my son's gravestone in the ground, I think of how much a hate his father.
When I arrived at my dad's house after hearing he had died of a heart attack, the first words my mother said to me were, "Did you tell your dad you are gay?"
I was the maddest I had ever been when he forgot to wake me up for my doctor's appointment, until I found him sitting dead in his chair.
I borrowed a power tool from my father in-law, but he died before I could return it.
In 30 minutes I'd gone from elation from being offered the job I'd always wanted to holding a dying man's hand as he bled out behind the train that had hit him.
There's no graceful way to lower a dog's body into a four-foot-deep hole, no matter how hard you try.
I was watching anime with my son on his thirteenth birthday when I got the call that my brother died of electrocution at age 33.
She was only 16, but I guess sledding is a pretty good way to go.
As I finished making my father's bed, the hospital called and informed me he wouldn't be needing it.
My crazy Polish dad came inside after digging a hole for a new tree in the backyard, holding the skull of "Speedy," my cat who had died months before and said, "Look, it's Speedy! Meow!"
I opened the car door and said out loud, "I hate time," as I prepared to leave the cemetery.
It really sucked that my only friend among the dozens of people there was the one in the casket.
My daughter climbed through an unlocked window and found my mother dead on her living room floor.
His suicide note blamed me.
My sister walked in on the family crying, unaware we were about to tell her she had been diagnosed with leukemia, and jokingly said, "What, am I dying?"
The orange juice I was making while she died ended up being so sour it was undrinkable.
Had I realized that he would be dead within 24 hours, I would have asked what he meant after he said, "No matter what, I did my best".
As my lovebird fluttered and died in my hands, my mother promptly announced, "It was your fault."
Even though I only saw her a handful of times in my life, whenever I see turquoise jewelry, I want to start crying and apologize for all the unsent letters.
We lost the baby a week after we finished the nursery.
As I declared her grandfatehr deceased, I couldn't help but to feel an urge to call my own.
As I watched my cousin get ready for the prom just three hours after her father's funeral, I realized how much I love my parents.
Before I even finished my sentence, I realized that this was the second time I'd made a "your mom" joke to her since her mom died.
The young man standing nearest the casket was dressed exactly the same to his identical twin brother, who was lying in it.
When I was 14 I saw a gang of younger kids killing a wild rodent, so I went behind the apartment building and cried.
If I had only gotten out of bed when my alarm went off, she might still be alive today.
I knew he loved me when he admitted his refusal to let me sleep by the window was for fear of a stray bullet.
I still wish I had taken the F instead of the A on the online test I hurried to finish while I could hear my dog dying on the kitchen floor.
Of all the things I thought I would be doing on my birthday, begging my cat to just let go and die peacefully in her sleep so I wouldn't have to take her to the vet to be put down was not one of them.
Normal has been tilted and is now my new normal ever since my husband committed suicide.
My cat died almost a year ago, but I still find her hair on my clothes and blankets sometimes.
After crying in a church parking lot for 20 minutes about the news of my best friend's death, someone from the church asked me to leave.
I watched a hideously cheesy episode of Lawrence Welk on PBS last night and loved every minute of it because it made me miss my grandfather a little less.
Shortly after a palliative care nurse suggested Preparation H as a treatment for my weeping induced under-eye bags, my mother, who was dying of cancer, opened her eyes and left me with these parting words of wisdom to sustain me after she died: "Whatever you do, Petunia, do NOT put ass cream on your face."
The most vivid thing that sticks out in my mind about the morning my father told me my best friend had died is that I couldn't finish my breakfast.
My dog died tonight and I cried longer and harder than I did when my Grandpa passed.
There should have been one more stocking hanging from the mantle, a few more ornaments on the tree with your name on the back, and a few more brightly wrapped presents addressed to you.
I watched her tiny tummy sucking in, her skin pulling tight against her ribs, her hand involuntarily closing on my index finger as she struggled for every breath, and I thought, "One day, is one day too much to ask?"
As I was being wheeled into emergency surgery, under the haze of a morphine-induced dream, I wholeheartedly believed I was going to my death, and I was truly horrified.
My uncle's secret of being a trans-sexual was revealed when the undertaker referred to him as "he/she."
As I lay in bed, wailing and sobbing after hearing news of the horrible accident, you were across the country sending an e-mail telling me not to be so sensitive and upset.
Since he died, I haven't been able to enjoy hugs at all.
I've slept with a fan on every night for the past 13 years, 7 months, and 14 days.
25 years later, I still feel guilty for shooting that leopard frog in the head with my BB gun.
All the growling and screaming in the world will never sound as horrible as the gurgling sound made by my mother's last breath.
I hadn't known joy until my daughter was born, and I didn't know sorrow until she died.
Let us hope that the man I saw swerve into a big rig survives to read this sentence.
I only have 70 days left to live, but I'm looking for a job anyway.
Everyone knows me as Jessica, but he knows me as the girl who actually wept with him when his frog died.
It was only after my mom drew her last breath that it occurred to me to ask her how I was going to get through this without her.
I can't tell what's worse: the death of the boy who pulled down his underwear in front of me in the first grade or feeling terrible every time I tell people about the first time I ever saw a penis.
The same night my brother died, a church burned down across the city and my sister-in-law disappeared without a word.
When the pastor told us we'd be waiting 10 more minutes to start the funeral services because the line was still down the block, I knew that the world was missing someone who was starting to make a difference.
Opening my eyes after nodding off for a second, I saw my dad exhale his last breath.
We sat in the graveyard for 20 minutes, nothing scary happened, and we decided we shall be cremated when we die.
How do you pray for a heart for a sick little girl when you know it's like hoping for someone else's child to die?
I stumbled upon a DVD of yours in our collection and put it aside to give back, only to find out moments later that you were dead.
I know you squeezed my hand back when you were in that coma.
Each time I buckle my young daughters life jacket, I can still see her mom, running, screaming across the sand as they try and revive her.
You made your sister an only child after the "Half of My Heart is in Iraq" sticker on your truck became untrue.
I have a clock in my living room that my dad loved and it stopped on the day he died at the exact time of his death.
The last thing I saw before the shrapnel hit us was my buddy, Ryan, smiling at me while saying, "Relax or you'll die all tense."
As I held my son back while he was screaming at his dead mother, I had the strangest feeling I had seen this exact scene in a movie.
I really think that if he didn't die in the plane crash, my grandmother and mother would have turned out so differently.
Upon hearing of my father's death, I calmly noted that people really do drop the phone when they hear bad news.
As the man sitting next to me on the plane bragged about how he had died three times, I crossed my fingers and quietly prayed for us to land before number four.
A week after his death I got an email from my mother in law informing me that my father had hung himself in the basement of the house I grew up in, and she ended the letter with "I didn't call because I don't know how you would react to such terrible news."
Two years after he died, and my heart still jumps when I see a guy who looks like John.
I had never seen my father cry until he found my pet bunny Coco dead in my backyard.
I did not say goodbye to my Dad as he left for work the last time.
I braced myself, stoic and still as stone, as they wheeled your body into the room, and I didn't break down until I realized your long hair was still wet from the last shower you took.
When my neighbors' 4-year-old son died unexpectedly in his sleep, I wasn't suicidal anymore.
Up until I saw the man's legs sticking out from under the truck's trailer I had thought the woman's shrieking had been unmerited.
She often cries while watching him sleep, hands clasped on his chest, reminding her again of his sister's tiny corpse.
After crushing the tiny spider with a roll of painters tape I felt a sudden pang of guilt knowing that I had ended a life for no reason other than my own silly phobia.
The bluebird nest box that contained one egg, two baby birds, and one female bluebird this morning now stands empty as the male bluebird chirps, and chirps, and chirps some more as he seeks a new mate to start over with.
The only special thing I did for Earth Day was bury my cat in the back yard.
Because he killed himself, I was able to fall in love.
Over two months later and I still can't bring myself to delete his name from my phone
I was six when I woke up next to my grandma to find that she had died in her sleep.
If you've never seen your friend's baby girl wave goodbye to her daddy as his casket leaves the funeral, I want to be you.
My son announced cheerfully that his new sport activity never resulted in injuries - only deaths
A Google search was an awful way to find out my birth father was dead, but at least I found my birth mother.
When I found you sitting dead in your chair, my first thought was, "Who's going to give me away at my wedding?"
Had I known it would've been our last night together I wouldn't have cancelled our date.
For weeks after my beloved cat died he hung out in my peripheral vision, a fleeting orange streak in the corner of my eye, as though to assure me he was ok.
The sight of my usually stoic mother weeping on the lid of her brother's casket is one I wish I could have gone a lifetime without seeing.
I told my boss that when my dog died I would need a week of for a death in the family.
I was 14 when I grasped my fathers lifeless hand and realized I didn't hate him after all.
She starved herself, and hurt herself, and now she's dead and all I can think is, "She never even got to have a first real kiss".
I was 3 and then I was 10 and now I'm 19 and more lost than I ever imagined I could be.
About the dumbest thing you can say about an embalmed body at a funeral is that they "look good," but that is what everyone kept saying.
My father died when I was six and the day after, I wrote in my diary that I was feeling better.
It was better to have 23 years with a wonderful mom than 53 years with a lousy one.
I couldn't tear my eyes away from the chair, still warm, as they carted your body away.
I slammed my body into the hood of my truck on the night you died and the dent is still there.
Over the last month, the cold reality of life has struck since one uncle died, another uncle had a stroke, my mother found out she has breast cancer and my grandmother is on her way to an assisted living facility.
Instead of him they sent back a folded flag, and when I was alone I tore it to pieces.
The best hug I ever got was just before I found out one of my friends was dead.
On her deathbed, she reached for my hand despite not knowing exactly who I was and with a thin but honest smile, asked, "However did you escape?"
They had swaddled the newborn so it appeared to be sleeping, and as I walked by the crying from the other side of the door, I found myself leaving to go hold my own newborn son.
I cried not because of the amount of the inheritance, but because I can't cash it in to bring her back.
Her first attempt at CPR shouldn't have to have been on her own mother.
My dad was slowly bleeding to death by the roadside some 100 meters away when I was washing the dishes for the first time in my life.
I saw my grandmother's death, the grandmother I had lived with until the seventh grade, as merely an opportunity to miss school.
My best friend hung himself on a Friday afternoon, and when I checked my cell phone the morning of his funeral I realized he had called me that day at 3:24PM.
My wife died eight days before her 35th birthday which would have been ten days ago.
I am so glad I got that chance to just hold him and talk to him and breathe in his little doggie smell.
Fred died less than sixteen hours after he attended our concert, after which he had repeatedly told us how well we'd done.
The nine year old said he had moved on from his best friend, who was killed by a falling branch a year ago, but as he stared at the spot where he died, I knew he hadn't.
That last night, Echo broke out of her cage, climbed into bed with me and waited for me to wake up.
We collectively realized she was gone when we sat down to eat our Thanksgiving dinner and realized that nobody made the gravy this year.
She cried so hard, I though the casket was going to fall over.
I never had the courage to talk to him when he was right upstairs but I drove for two days with no insurance to see him die the next day.
This morning while in the shower the ground shook, and I realized my greatest fear is to die naked.
During the 90 minutes he was in our arms, his mother and I loved him a lifetime.
My father died as I asked my grandmother why she was crying.
It's never like the movies...we pulled the plug and he took two hours to die.
When I arrived at the memorial site, I couldn't think of anything witty or poignent to write, so I just carved 'I miss you' into the telephone pole that killed you and went home.
When my phone rang, I expected to hear her voice, but all I heard was her mother crying and saying, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I didn't believe you."
I was never very close with my Grandfather, so it's no surprise that when he died and all my cousins received a cherished belonging of his, I got some socks.
Dad's been dead for six years and Mom died eight months ago, but my sister who was supposed to "take care of everything" just now got around to paying for their headstone.
The day my grandfather was diagnosed as HIV positive was the day my mother found out she was pregnant with me.
I watched the old VHS tapes of him filming the ocean for most of the night with the sudden realization that he was filming the ocean because it was the last time he would ever see it again.
Today in my embalming lab we sliced, injected, and sutured a woman who is my thriving grandmother's senior by only six days.
My dad died six years ago and I'm starting forget what he was like because it hurts too much for me to think about him.
It's been eight years this Thanksgiving, and they still sob over his death.
She meant it as a joke when she saw our downcast faces and asked "Who died?", but she didn't expect me to answer.
The 1/32nd dose of the experimental drug cut her cancer in half, and I can't help but wonder if she would be alive today if they would have just given her a full therapeutic dose.
My first kiss happened just months after my mother died.
To this day I still entertain the idea that my father's death was just an awful conspiracy.
I felt terrible telling my son that his second mouse "ran away" with the help of the first mouse who had done the same.
I find reasons why I can't visit his grave because I'm terrified it will make everything come rushing back.
After he died I've always avoided the cherry tree orchards.
When I called my friend after her husband died, I didn't think that she would end up consoling me.
I spend every day hoping someone in my community dies so that I can finish my 10-funeral-observation before I go back to school in August.
6 years ago today I could have died but didn't and no one seems to care but me.
He's dead, he's been dead 30 years, he will stay dead, deal with it and move on.
After I hadn't heard from you in a while, I looked you up, and found out you had died in a motorcycle accident eight months ago.
This morning, on my bedroom floor, lay a dying firefly, its light blinking on and off, still signaling for a mate.
Later, I would realize that I cried harder when my dog died than I did at Mom's funeral.
It's been nine years, but the cemetery keeper still remembers my name.
I told him he wasn't allowed to die until I was ready to say goodbye, but he didn't listen.
When she died, I cried not because I would miss her every day for the rest of my life, but because there was no one left in the world who loved me.
Christmas Eve is one hell of a time to learn that some old wives' tales are true.
She had no idea that when she sarcastically said "I know I'm going to die," about getting her wisdom teeth pulled that she actually would.
I then came to realize that because of such freakish weather that winter, that global warming took my friends life.
One of the worst feelings comes along with seeing your dog dying in the middle of the road after you accidently ran over her.
I learned that my father had written a Cold War-era spy novel from a eulogist at his funeral.
I didn't know the stupid cat had been my best friend for fifteen years until I realized he was refusing to let himself die unless I was there to hold him.
She found it ironic that in order to deal with the stress of her mother dying of lung cancer she turned to smoking two packs a day.
As my dog of 15 years lay lifeless in my arms, I was screaming her name so loud that I swear she could hear me in death, because she woke up and wagged her tail.
It constantly amazes me that every single day it takes me a few minutes post-waking before I realize that my father has been dead for almost 2 years and my mom is on her way to jail for prescription fraud.
For three long, dreadful years of my life I lived with her, I breathed in her foul smelling second hand smoke every single day, and as she died many years later, I sat there wishing I could breathe it again just one last time.
Right before my father died nearly 20 years ago, he told me to quit smoking, and last month I finally did.
The man's face was so badly decomposed that the cop asked me "Well, does this look like something he would have done with his hair?"
I had gone 28 years - my entire life - without touching a dead body, and I'm quite content to go another 28 years before doing it again.
It wasn't until after my father passed that I realized I was meant to take his place as my hero.
Five minutes later, she realized that she hadn't thought about him for five minutes.
I was developing photos of a party my ex-girlfriend's father had hosted when it occurred to me that if she died, no one would tell me.
I will always regret not being by the side of my 9 year old brother, my best friend, the day he died of Leukemia.
I am heart-sick because, like many parents of children with profound disabilities, my most secret and unspoken prayer is "Dear God, please let me outlive my child."
Sometimes, weddings where you don't know anyone are worse than funerals where you know who's in the coffin.
We only had him for less than 36 hours, but when our new puppy died of giardia, I cried as if I had him for years.
At dinner it was accidentally mentioned that she had died.
Sometimes God says no to your prayers, so she died.
By the time I was 22, my brother had died and so had my son.
My uncle would always say, "Good night, Danny, I'll see you in the morning," and the first and only time he didn't say "I'll see you in the morning," was the night he died.
My adopted son saw his mom, dad and sister, along with her unborn child, shot and killed after he had been shot in the head, stabbed, sliced and left to die in his house the perpetrator had set on fire.
When I asked the cat to let us know he was ok, my husband gave me the look, but the next morning he admitted that the cat woke him by walking on his pillow.
Counting the words on the Absolut bottle was my mantra as I awaited the arrival of the coroner.
If I'd have known it was the last thing I was going to say to him, I would've made sure he knew how much of a great mate he was.
I didn't expect myself to survive to see the two year anniversary of the day they told me it had been a single bottle of pills that took her away.
I will always remember from my boyhood the time that I brushed the whiskers out of a dead man's electric razor that I had inherited.
When my grandfather died, I didn't cry at the funeral because I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to stop.
I hated him for years for being an arrogant bastard and dreamed of killing him, but all my anger just melted away when I learned he was dying for real.
When he died, my life ever after was lived with an asterisk next to the events in my life that would have been better had he been there.
I would never tell my family this, but I blame my father's wife for his death.
Sometimes I wish that my best friend would die so me and her mom could be closer.
I tormented her while she lived but she died and I'm the one left in turmoil.
The only night he didn't say, "I'll see you tomorrow," was the night he passed away.
I should know better than to drink too much coffee and then contemplate what happens after death.
I couldn't think of a polite way to say that I didn't want to look at her mother's corpse, so I buried my face in my husband's shoulder as we filed past the coffin.
When they handed me a medal for saving a man in Afghanistan, all I could think about was how I wasn't able to save the other two.
The only professor I could find who was able to get accounting concepts through my thick skull died three weeks into the semester.
I was there when they put him down, he never saw it coming because he was in so much pain.
When I opened the door there was a policeman holding my mother's driver's license and throwing uncomfortable glances to the chaplin beside him.
I was more than half asleep when I heard my father speaking, but I didn't understand he was telling me she was dead.
This month began blackly with a death and ended radiantly with a marriage.
My neighbour (who meant a lot to me) died in hospital on a Monday and I was the last one to see her alive.
"My brother died" was all she said, and in that one instant, all I wanted was for us to be 19 again, and unaware of the gut wrenching pain I would feel for her 10 years later.
President Bush killed my father, a soldier whose burned remains are now a part of the Iraqi desert landscape, and I, longing to fit in by supporting something I did not understand, was stupid enough to vote for him the previous year.
I couldn't tell you she died this weekend because I didn't want you to look at me with those puppy-dog-eyes and ask me how my grief could possibly compare to yours over your mother.
I wondered why I was having trouble grieving the death of my mother when the counselor figured out I had not grieved the death of HER mother only 12 years earlier.
Watching him, I realize he is the only reason I live, and that I am watching him die.
After experiencing the situation myself I suddenly realised you can spot if any person's parents are dead by the natural sadness on their face.
I held my father's hand as he died in that hospital room and realized I'd never held his hand before that moment.
I loved a girl, but she died before I figured it out.