Share YOUR story with our readers

Why not share your story with all our readers, so that others can learn and grow from your own experiences of grief and loss? Simply click on one of the Contact Us buttons to send us your story. Submission criteria...

Please take the following into account:

Write from the heart in a way which will connect you to your fellow human beings around the world, and which will inspire and encourage others in their own journey through grief. For example, what have you learned? How did your experiences help you to grow? What advice would you give to others?

Please submit your stories by clicking on one of the Contact Us buttons in the blog side panels, and then filling in the form. We will do our best to acknowledge every contribution. If we like your work, we will publish it on this blog, so keep checking back. We are happy to include a link to your own website in your story if you would like us to.

Please supply full contact details, as we will not accept anonymous or author unknown submissions. In the event that your contribution is selected to be published in an anthology, we may wish to contact you and send you a copy of the book.

We may edit your contributions if they are lengthy. Thank you for your stories, and for your interest in what we are trying to achieve at The Light Beyond.

Comments

[bianca]

Im 21 years old and to this very day i think about what might have been...when i was 18 my boyfriend was in a very bad car accident ever since then my whole life has changed, im not the same person i once was. Some days I know that i will be fine and everything is gonna be ok, but there are other days that I just want to die, and i ask myself why me, why him....is that selfish of me? Sometimes I just know that i cannot go on any longer..i dont want to feel this way but I cant change the way my life has turned out! My heart yearns to see him again...I never knew that my heart could ache as much as it does...its a pain that i cannot even began to explain. I could go on and on because I have no one else who wants to listen or at least thats how i feel.

[Elaine Williams]

Bianca: The ups and downs may continue, but they get easier with time as we begin to heal. I am a widow of four years and I know well the tumult of emotions we experience in our grief and bereavement. None of it is easy, nor does any of it follow a plan. We are all in the journey individually, but what I hope for you is you find solace in the good times you had with your boyfriend and recall with fond reminiscence that time you had together. I consider myself fortunate to have had the opportunity to love someone as much as I did my husband. Even in the worst of times, there was a "knowing" in me that I would be okay, somehow, some way.

[cynthia]

it has beena almost one year since i lost the the best man ever - my daddy - i miss him so horribly and i keep hearing time heals -well i still fell like it was yesterday and it wont let up -any help or words of wisdom as i feel i am riding a never ending pain train -he was a wonderful man - hsrd workimg - charitable - loving and would give the shirt off his back to anyone who was in need - not a too shabby golfer either i might add - golf was his love - one day at age 76 he shot a 68 - i hear thats good - im not a golfer but he was a icon in this are - i miss his presence and the way he just filled the room when he walked in - a gentle peaceful man - love him and miss him so much -thanks for listening -Cynthia

[Curie]

I lost my father 12 years ago, quite suddenly to a heart attack. He was at work when he suffered his attack and his last words were "Call an ambulance!". I was living two states away and I remember it being a beautiful day.

I am now 48 years old, and still his absence cuts me to the bone sometimes. I have dreamt about him, and it's one dream in particular that has stuck with me the most. I shall relate it here in just a bit.

The mere suddenness of his passing has left the traditional open wounds and unresolved issues. Did I tell him that I loved him enough? Did I make sure he knew how much he meant to me? Did I ever get to prove that I am a man in my own right?

Is he disappointed in me and in the way I live?

Such are the feelings that sometimes just grab me by the throat like a ravenous animal, and reduces me to tears, reverting me back to that same raw moment when I learned that he was gone.

Sometimes, I try to discern what my dreams of him meant. In moments of clearer lucidity, it comes through, but in times like this I re-think my impressions and come up empty.

My Dream:

I am at my parents' house. There are a lot of people there, like a holiday or something. People are sitting around the dining room table and my father is sitting at his usual place. Talk is light and cacaphonous, as my family is half-italian and there just seems to be a natural inclination for many conversations to be taking place at once. My dad is talking and laughing along with everyone else. Suddenly, he looks up at the clock on the wall, and says "Well, I guess I'd better get going". He rises from the table, and everyone says goodbye and good luck to him...like he's going to work, or on a brief trip.

I watch from the bar in the dining room. I am bewildered that he has gotten up from the table and is going into the bathroom. Where is he going? What does everyone know that I don't?

After several minutes, he emerges. Not only is he decked out in jeans and t-shirt and leather jacket, he is a much younger version of himself. I get up from the bar and start walking towards him, to ask him what is going on.

He is standing at the front door, and I stop him before he goes out. I ask him where he's going. I ask him if I can come with him.

At this point, I realize that I am asking to go with him because I am genuinely afraid; like something terrible could happen, and I want to be there to either protect him, or be on hand to share in whatever happens.

He smiles, and tells me that I can't go with him. He deflects all answers as to why not. By now, I come to the realization that this is no ordinary trip, and that it has deep meaning. With tears in my eyes, I tell him that I don't want him to go.

He embraces me and says that he has to. He then whispers something in my ear that I still don't entirely understand. He whispers:

"We'll catch up."

He then turns and leaves, shutting the door behind him. I never see him again. Behind me, the conversations are carrying on like before, like nothing unusual has happened. I then awaken.

I should suffix this by relating that his youngest brother, my uncle whom I have been very close with all of my life, passed away suddenly this past September. I think of him often, and of course by doing so think of my father as well.

Sometimes the pain and grief and sense of loss isn't too bad. Other times, it cuts me clean in half. I assume that in their new heightened awareness, they see all and sundry that I have been and what I have become. I wonder if I have disappointed them terribly, and if they can ever forgive me for the things they never knew but know now.

I don't know if I will ever catch up to my father, or if he would ever even want me to.