Thank you so much for your comments and suggestions. I completely understand what you mean by the break in the telling of the story. If I write this as a book, I will not have a break there. I decided to post the blog just as I wrote it on MySpace. I am still deciding on what format to take with a book. I appreciate so much the feedback from everyone on the direction I should take. Thanks again.
Journal, Diary, & Blogging / I Told You It Wouldn't Hurt....
Monday, May 21, 2007
The Story of Michael…..
Current mood: anxious
Category: Life
Today is the day I will start to tell the story of my Michael. I have been building my courage for awhile now. On the news, a short time ago today, I saw the story of one of the local high school’s giving a presentation to the student body that re-enacted a drive-by shooting. It was given by a group of students hoping to help end the violence that all of our kids are so familiar with today. It has given me just the nudge I needed to put Mike’s life out here.
This is the beginning, but as of this moment I still haven’t decided where to start. Two days and two events that changed our lives forever. One gave Michael life and one took him from us here on earth and gave him to heaven. A short lifetime of 16 years in between. He has been gone from us for almost as long as he was alive. It is more than 13 years now. He should be a man turning 30 in July, not the troubled 16 year old in our memories. I have written about Michael several times through the years. I kept a journal for awhile after he died. I started to write a book for myself. I could never write about the final day…all the rest of his life was easy to put on paper. I talked about it and shared it with others who faced similar losses. But the writing was hard. I have written a bit to explain to people recently so I think I am finally ready.
Emotions are hard for me to express…I am working on it. I write them easier than I speak them. I always have to think before I speak and when I think of what I want to say, the moment has usually passed. My typing is not good and my thoughts get ahead of my fingers so it takes me awhile to proofread as I write! LOL!
This is a very busy family time for me…not really a good time to explore these memories and write them down! I must leave to go to my grandson’s awards presentation at school. I still have to decide which day to start with….I think it should be the hard day. I will be back tonight….....
4:51 PM -
Monday, May 21, 2007
Category: Life
The worst day of my life…..
I have decided to write about the bad day first….there will be many tears shed while I get this out, I have no doubt. It will take more than one entry…....
It was a Sunday. February 27th, 1994. The skies were crystal blue and the air was warm. It was one of those few fabulous days in Las Vegas when it was just perfect outdoors. I was angry at Michael, again. We had discovered he had sneaked out of the house during the night to go to a party, AGAIN. Sunday morning was just about the only time we were together for breakfast. I almost always made us something nice and hot on those mornings. Mike would wake up when he smelled the food cooking. It was usually his favorite french toast, pancakes, or bacon and eggs.
This morning it would be bacon and eggs, I was not in the mood to provide his favorite meal. As I started cooking, Bill was already out in the yard starting his weekly lawn mowing and cleanup. The bacon was nearly finished and no Mike. My anger was simmering and I was thinking about what I would say to him when he came in. When the bacon was finished and still no Mike, I just made eggs and toast for Bill and me. Let Mike fend for himself, I decided. I did cover the bacon and put it in the fridge, guiltily thinking he could just heat it up himself.
I called Bill in and we ate. I was cleaning up when the phone started ringing. It was one of Mike’s friends looking for him. I did not want Mike leaving that day so I told him Michael wasn’t home. A girl called later, also looking for Mike, I told her the same thing. Mike wasn’t home. Still no Mike. I was getting more irritated as time went by. Finally as I was cleaning up the living room, I saw him come into to the kitchen. He stopped to look in the refrigerator but did not take anything out.
Before I got in there, he was out the front door and heading over to talk to his dad. It was a little after 9AM by then. I watched him through the kitchen window and I will never forget the last view I had of him that morning. He was putting on his ballcap and adjusting it with both hands. The sun was shining down on his face through the slats in the patio cover. He was smiling and he looked so young, so handsome, and so vulnerable. I remember thinking how can this sweet young man be causing us so much pain? I felt those butterflies in my stomach that I sometimes get when I look at those I love. I just knew I had to find a way to get things put back to where they should be. I was so anxious to talk to him.
After a short time I heard the front door open. It was Bill. I asked him where Mike was. He said he had given him money to go buy a Big Gulp. I didn’t like that answer at all. I asked if he was supposed to come back and Bill said he assumed he was coming right back. He never came home again.
My mother’s instinct was already playing havoc with my emotions. I kept nervously watching the front door and looking out the window to watch for him. I was so anxious for him to come home. I kept thinking we were at a pivotal time and I just had to sit down and talk with him and make some decisions. Time was passing and still he didn’t come home. As I often do when I am worried or upset, I was cleaning everything in sight. I started defrosting the freezer when I ran out of other things to keep me busy. I kept going to the window and stepping outside to look down the street. I just felt like something was not right. I couldn’t explain it, but I just knew it. My stomach was in knots and the worse I felt, the more I worried.
Working in the retail industry meant working weekends and changing shifts often. Bill was a store director and worked days with split days off, Wednesday and Sunday. I was a grocery checker and after many years in the business was able to have the same days off and work part time, mostly mornings. Michael was working as a boxboy up until about 10 days before this particular Sunday. He had quit his job and was looking for something else. I was not happy about that. He told his dad he wasn’t him and he didn’t like the grocery business. We also took him out of school that same week. We had gotten to the point that it was really not going to work for him to remain at his present high school. He was having problems with some kids at school. He often ditched and was failing some of his classes. He was hanging around with new kids. I kept going over possible ways to handle all the problems we had been having with Mike and I was so undecided about what to do. I couldn’t decide whether to put him in a diffrent school, send him to my sister in Oklahoma, or just move away completely. I was so tired after four years of failing with him, that I had given up temporarily.
There was just the three of us left at home, Bill, Mike, and me. Billy and Kevin were married with children and busy with their own lives and families. Usually they would come over on Sundays and bring the kids to see us. About 4PM Kevin came in with Jenean and their two girls. We were talking and the girls were excited and laughing. It was a short distraction for me. Before long, there was a frantic pounding and the rapidly ringing bell at the front door. My first thought was that my son Billy had come over and it was my grandson pounding on the door. He would do that and also ring the doorbell rapidly when he came to visit. He was always so excited to see us. I told Stephanie to go to the door with Papa, that it was probably Justin coming to visit. She ran with Bill to the door giggling.
When no little children came running back into the family room, I felt my heart sink and I just knew something was wrong with Mike. I could hear low voices. I was getting up to go to the door when I heard Bill say…”Dear…they say Mike has been shot.” He was calm and I could tell he was trying to process what they had said, just as I was trying to process what he had said…....
10:03 PM -
Friday, June 01, 2007
Current mood: Resolved
Category: Resolved Life
Continued…...
I woke up at 5:30 this morning…before Bill. Mike’s last day filled my thoughts as I came awake. I guess it is time to write more. I stayed in bed, awake and remembering. When Bill got up about twenty minutes later to get ready for work, I was still having the flashes of memory wash over me. I listened to him getting ready and heard the door to the garage open before I got up. I didn’t tell him to have a good day as I usually would when I woke up before he left. Most of the time I wake up when I hear the door opening…...
...As I was trying to process that Bill had said Mike had been shot, it seemed as though time had stood still. No sound penetrated my mind, no movement did I see. It was as if I had stopped moving halfway up from the couch where I was sitting. It seemed like a long time, though it was only seconds. Everything then became a frenzy. Bill had stepped back in from the entryway, his face had lost all color. He said Mike was close , just a few blocks away. We all started to rush out the door and I remember thinking for a moment I should get my shoes and purse! I was wearing just slipper socks….I got nothing and I was the last out the door. Kevin and family got into their car and we got into Bill’s Bronco. We sped down the street barely slowing down at the first cross street…thankfully we were only four blocks away. As we turned the corner to the street where Mike was, I heard the sirens. My son would later tell me that Bill had cut in front of the ambulance…I never saw it and neither did Bill. When we stopped in the middle of the street, I saw the ambulance go around us into the dirt on the shoulder.
I saw a police car and a police officer standing over Mike, who was laying in the dirt. As I approched I saw him try to keep Bill from getting close to Mike. Bill said, “That’s my son” and pushed him away as he fell to his knees beside Mike. As I got there and stood by Bill, the paramedics came up and immediately started working on Mike.
Mike was not conscious, he was so pale and looked so young. I could only think “that’s my baby”. I was so scared. When they started to check him over, Mike became agitated and started pushing at the air with his hands. I heard the police officer say, “Let them help you, son, don’t fight them.” I finally found my voice and told him, ” Mike, it’s mom, we’re here, let them help you!” He calmed then, so I am sure he knew what was happening. As they started cutting away his shirt, the only thing I heard was Mike making a few small moans. I know they were talking around me, but all I was focused on was Mike’s face, and I don’t know what anyone was saying. Then they lifted him up slightly to pull away his shirt. I saw a small round hole in his back right shoulder…I remember the thought flashed through my mind, “at least it is not on left side with his heart”. As I stared at that small little hole, I saw a drop of blood start and slowly wind it’s way around the opening before dropping to the ground. For the first time, as I watched it fall, I saw the trail of blood on the ground that led to a puddle of blood where Bill was kneeling.
Seeing that blood hit me hard. I had to step away to catch my breath when the thought came to me that that drop was Mike’s last drop of blood leaving his body. When I am highly stressed, my mind seems to close down a bit and I feel like I am outside of myself and watching what is happening. I felt that way in that moment. I am not someone who falls apart and expresses myself with all the emotions I am feeling inside. I don’t scream and cry uncontrollably. I feel that way inside, but I don’t show it to anyone else. Sometimes people interpret that as that I am a cold unfeeling person. Nothing could be further from the reality. I think it is just a self protection mechanism for me.
In those moments that I stepped away, I looked at the crowd of people who had gathered across the street. It was a Sunday afternoon and the smell of barbeques was heavy in the air. Many people had been outside when this all took place. There were kids, teenagers and adults of all ages. One girl standing there all by herself made me catch my breath again. She was probably about 15 with jet black hair and such a white face that it was startling to me. Her hair was that short ragged cut with part of it hanging in her face. She was standing straight and not moving, with no expression on her face at all. She was dressed in a short black leather skirt. I had never seen her before and I never saw her again, except in my dreams. I could not tell you what anyone else who was there that day looked like.
When I moved back over to where Mike was, they were getting ready to lift him on the gurney to put him in the ambulance. He was not making any sounds now and except for the paleness of his face, he looked calm and just like he was sleeping. As they were starting to put him inside, he started to moan a bit more. I stopped them. I touched his face, it was very cool to my touch, and it scared me more. I said, “It’s mom, Mike, I love you. You can make it Mike, hang in there.” He calmed again. I hope and pray that he heard me.
I went over to Bill who was standing by the ambulance. We had not spoken since we got there. He said they told him only one of us could ride in the ambulance. I wanted to be in there so badly. But Bill was so shaken, I had never seen him so distraught and had only seen him cry once in all the years we were together. That was when his best friend from his childhood died. After the drive there and considering the fact that he had been drinking beer and working in the yard all day, we decided he would go with Mike, and Kevin would drive me in the Bronco. Jenean would take the girls to her mother’s and meet us at UMC Trauma Unit. My poor little girls. I remember seeing Stephanie standing in the doorway inside of their car watching us all. She was only 3 and they all loved their fun Uncle Mike.
As we got into the truck, I finally allowed the tears to fall. I was praying out loud and I just kept saying, “Please, God, Please”. As we drove, I started biting off my acrylic nails. It felt so foolish of me to have those red painted fingernails when my son was fighting for his life. I have never had those nails applied again.
Kevin, too, was shaken. We were following behind the ambulance and when we got on the freeway, Kevin kept saying he didn’t know why they weren’t driving faster. As we got to the hospital, I saw Bill standing by a pillar as they were unloading Mike and wheeling him into the entrance. I remember thinking I had never seen my strong Bill look so lost and helpless. As I jumped out of the car and rushed toward him, I feared he was going to tell me Mike was gone…....
6:27 AM
Sunday, July 08, 2007
Current mood: melancholy
Category: Life
July….I told you it wouldn’t hurt…...
It is now July….the month our Michael was born into this world. It is a month filled with memories of fun and laughter. Of birthday parties, 4th of July celebrations and family vacations. Trips to the lake, the mountains and National Parks. A month filled with family togetherness. The memories for the last 13 years are different. The celebration now is a trip to the cemetery. We leave flowers for our beautiful son along with a card with our love written inside. A card we know he can’t read but we hope he knows we write it and remember. We take balloons with messages written inside to release to the heavens.
It was July 20th, 1977. I had started labor early in the day and my water broke while workmen were in our new house trying to find a leak in the ceiling from the upstairs bathroom! The doctor was not very happy with me that I delayed going to the hospital for awhile after the water broke, and with the nurse I called to confirm it was all right to do that. The labor progressed slowly after the water broke, and I wanted to let the workers finish the bathroom…it took forever to get the builder to send them out! I had called Bill to come home from work, and his mother to come get the boys to take to her house. Then, Bill and I drove around for a little hoping the contractions would intensify before getting to the hospital! I don’t like hospitals! When it was finally time that evening, the final pushing came quickly, too quickly for the spinal, so Mike was the only one of the boys born without the pain blocker. I still remember the feel of his warm, heavy, squirming little body as the nurse placed him on my stomach while the doctor cut the cord. He was a big baby. The nurses were all making guesses about his weight…most guessing 9 lbs. They asked me what I thought. Having had two large sons already and knowing he seemed a little heavier, I said 9 1/2 lbs. I was right on…he was 9 lbs 8 oz!
This was a time when most fathers were not allowed in the delivery rooms, and most of them were very grateful for that!! Bill was one of those grateful men….the delivery was my job! LOL! After our sons were taken home, he was a father before his time. He changed diapers, fed and bathed them, and also got the 2 AM feedings. The first thing he said when I told him I suspected we were adding to the family was…”Oh, no…more 2AM feedings!!!” As they grew, some of his co workers called him Father Goose since he would take them in to work and they followed behind him in a row like little ducks! When he came into the recovery room to learn he had a third son….no knowing the sex of babies before they were born back then, either….and to meet him, he was beaming. The first thing he said as he picked him up to hold him was, “See, I told you it wouldn’t hurt! He was meant to be here…he could be president or do something very important for the world!” Some of the words he had spoken nine months before. Michael was the baby born on his expected due date….Billy was two weeks early….Kevin was two weeks late!
“Come on…it’s all right, it won’t hurt”...those were the coaxing words of my sweet husband one night on a trip to our cabin at Crestline. Words I would remind him of many times in the coming months and years. Words spoken the night our Michael was conceived. Words proven to be so true in the years we were blessed to have him and then proved to be so false when we lost him. Words that have come to me time and time again in the last 30 years.
We thought we were a finished family. Billy was 7 and Kevin was 5 and had started kindergarten. I finally had taken a regular job as a grocery checker since they were both in school. We had put down a deposit on a new larger home and had sold our first one. We bought a new car and life was looking good financially since Bill had just been promoted to store manager….only five years working for Lucky and steadily working his way up. When the pending arrival was confirmed, we backed out of the new house and purchased a less expensive one that would take longer to build. We sold my new car and bought an older cheaper one with no payment. We knew I wouldn’t want to work for awhile after the new baby came, we never liked leaving the kids with sitters for very long, so the money would not be as good. It was definitely hurting a bit to begin with!
After Mike arrived, no thought was ever given to the hurting part again. He was a beautiful happy child. He rarely cried and he loved being held and rocked and hugged. He was wary of strangers and he did not like noisy, loud happenings. When he was little he would watch the fireworks his father and brothers would set off from the safety of the closed up van…couldn’t get too close! He really didn’t like fireworks until he was 6 or 7 years old. When he was about 4 we went to Hoover Dam and decided to take the helicopter tour of the lake. No way, no how, was Bill able to coax Mike into getting on that helicopter. He and I watched as they took off….in the van, with Mike on the opposite side of the helicopter. He watched anxiously for them to come back and was so relieved when they did and we could leave. As he grew older the fears diminished and he became more and more daring. Perhaps to compensate for those early fearful years. He always had a smile on his face. He was giving and forgiving. He stood up for the kids who were picked on. He was always bringing home “stray” kids and animals. He adored his brothers, his dad and me. Being together was what he really needed. Most teenagers get to an age where going places with their parents is a big pain…not Mike! He loved our trips after the other boys left home, just his dad, me and him. Even when he was acting out and getting into trouble as a teen, he still had that bond with us and the most important thing to him was his family. It was so hard to understand the trouble then and it still is today. He told me once he wasn’t running away because of us…he just wanted to do what he wanted to do! He promised never to do it again….and he didn’t. He left us, but not because he wanted to leave us.
There is much to tell and I will continue with Mike’s story soon. I think it is important to get this beginning of the story out before finishing the rest of it…that, and the fact that July is here. July is always hard for me. It starts when June is coming to an end and continues through July 20th. The trip to the cemetery is close. I keep thinking it will get easier, and it is easier than it was the first years, but it always hurts….alot….still…those words Bill said to me more than 30 years ago sometimes haunt me. I have to say that I love the words to Garth Brooks’ song, “The Dance”....I could have missed the pain, but I would have had to miss the the dance…..I would never have missed the dance with my Michael…..
9:12 AM -
You need to log in to urbis or create an urbis account to review this writing.
Reviews
Sort Reviews by Newest | Oldest | Highest Quality | Lowest Quality | Newest Comments |
A_Pseudonym reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100%% of the Item
This 192 word review has not been unlocked.
Ladyauthor2b reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100%% of the Item
I’ve read the first part before; now you included the continuance. It’s so touching. To go back and draw upon memories everything you can recall is a lasting tribute to that person. I know you are sharing your blog, but at some point, you can create a real novel from this. The story moves, and you have a nice sentiment flowing throughout. Keep sharing. It’s a beautiful story of your son’s life, and we should remember them happy and loved.
- add/view comments (1)
EinsteinShrugged reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100%% of the Item
I liked this style and loved that you went back to front. Ending with Michael’s “beginning” was a nice touch and made the story of his birth bittersweet to read. You say your goal is to have a book of your own writing – if the book is simply for yourself then I’d say you’re well on your way. You have a wonderful gift for telling a story in very straightforward language and don’t shy away from punching your reader right in the chest with the truth. Whether or not that works for something you’d want to have published, I couldn’t say. But it was a wonderful story to read and I’m already looking forward to reading what else you’ll choose to share with all of us about Michael and the impact he had (and continues to have) on your life.
MElizabeth reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100%% of the Item
I honestly cried. This was a beautiful telling of your story. I must first thank you for sharing something so close to your heart.
As for the technical writing of it… you did an excellent job. In the break between your initial telling of that day and the continuation, you lost the emotion of it a little bit. If you were to publish this, you might want to consider continuing it without that break. There was only one line I could see that was really off:
” He told his dad he wasn’t him … ” This is in the middle talking about your son quitting the grocery store. I think it’s either supposed to read “He told his dad it wasn’t him” or “He told his dad it wasn’t for him”, but of course you know what you meant when it comes to that. You’re good at editing your own work, because I didn’t notice any other blaring errors.
Your details really make this come alive to the reader. I love your display of the struggle I think a lot of moms have: you always love your children, even though you don’t like what they’re doing. And in the meantime you show a lot of your son in what you write.
I really am trying not to say to much because this should really stand on its own. I hope you get this published someday. I think you could help a great many people who lose loved ones far too early. Thanks again.
Adair reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100%% of the Item
At the end of the first paragraph you should use the word “there” instead of “here”.
I like that you started with the bad day first because that’s what the reader wants to know… what happened. When you list his favorite foods you should just say “french toast and pancakes”. Then start the next paragraph with the “bacon and eggs”. It cuts out repetition but still conveys the same thing.
I love how you describe your son in the front yard adjusting his hat, etc. on that fateful morning. It really illicites alot of emotion… very powerful.
When you talking about working in the retail industry I had a hard time understanding if you meant yourself, your husband, or your son. You may want to clarify this.
When you use the word “process” to describe what you and your husband were going through it becomes overused. Try a different word instead of using the same on twice.
I like the effect that the phrase “He never came home again”. I also like the bit about the acrylic nails and the part about hoping your son heard you say that you loved him. All very moving stuff.
I am very impressed with your writing and because it’s all real, it makes for a great read. Going back and telling about how your family came together was uplifting after the reading the emotional turmoil of your son’s passing.
I really think you could get this stuff published, if you wished to. I admire you for your courage to share the story and would love to read more about Mike’s death, his killers, and your life after the fact. I’m very sorry for your loss. Good luck to you!
aquaruischick reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100%% of the Item
wow, very powerful story. Very great details and storyline. Made me cry and ask how did you get the courage to share this life story with us?? I cannot imagine the courage this took for you to even consider sharing this.
THis should be published as soon as possible.
very nicely done
Deanne reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100%% of the Item
First of all, start with “It was a Sunday, February 27th.” Leave all the rest out. Trust me; what you want your book to communicate that’s before here is going to be said elsewhere, too.. Your emotions, his age, everything will come out again, so you can safely get rid of this. Why? For one, you’ll keep readers longer if they are thinking of Michael as 16. Have you read the Reader’s Digest Stories about incidents like families lost in the mountains, tents ripped into by bears, kids floating in a swollen river --only after the story is over and they show the photos of the players getting awards do you see that the 4 -year-old is 8 or 9 now. They do that to sustain interest in these kids as if they were just beside us breathing and just now snatched. It makes the story immediate. Also, because telling people who don’t even know your story yet how hard it is for you, how you’ll cry a few times, how you’ll do more tomorrow--then, not returning, deleting “I’ll do more tomorrow” and adding more as if it is all in one sitting, like any pro does—is going to put your readers off, they will get restless. You aren’t going to hold them to their seats by saying “this is going to be hard for me”—but by telling them a harrowing tale. People love people but they don’t have time just to be kind and read everybody’s story. My sister worked for American Family Publishers and people wrote them letters every day about how hard their lives were so please let them win the money. The girls who read these appeals got paid $200 less a week than the ones who quickly threw them away. It’s life.
If you want an audience, and more than the few relatives who’d stay while you told how hard this will be for you—leave it out (I took it out of my own similar tale, OK?) Hold them down with your story. Go right into it. Don’t use words like “sweet” to describe people but show them in an instant of being sweet. Even saying they are lively is hard on the reader but sweet is impossible for us to envision without an example. For example, you really show how your husband was sweet and makes you both very likable immediately.
Your ending is very good. Your stray way of telling the tale -I don’t think so. Usually they go right into it, not pause because “we always spend 6 weeks on this, starting with the cemetary--it’ll be time to write more later.” That is odd. I’d rather you wrote in chronological time and told of a trip to a National Park, or of some, naming the parks, which makes you look all-American, as you tell of the children playing. Then go on with Michael at 16. Leave you and how hard this is out—they do not work as cliff-hangers. At all.
Yes they are hard to get out. I’ve one here, too. It’s worth it if you do it well; you don’t need excuses for why you couldn’t do it well—they are excuses. You are making yourself re-live something—you’ll be ok. It’s value will be in how well you wrote it-how likable the characters were (not by telling us they are likable), how strong the writing (stay on topic), how concise, how honest, how the story resonates with us. You give us a few good details and a great ending, but come on, how many of us are going to find part 2 on the queue? You needed to put it all up at once. So, this failed by not presenting the very story it set up (with all that noise and trouble) to do.
No good. Try again. Keep it all in one piece. I hope I’ve helped.
lupi reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100%% of the Item
I can only say WOW! The emotional impact of your story is absolutely incredible. I must say I have never had the loss of a child to contend with, just one whose health has never been there. The pain I sometimes feel for her is nothing compared to your loss, though perhaps I can sympathize more as a mother who has felt SOME of the same things you have. I only live with the fear of loss, not the actual loss of a child.
I hope your journal entries are somewhat cathartic for you, though I also think they are something that should be shared with a wider audience. Perhaps if more teens understand the pain parents go through with the loss of a child, they might be less inclined to get involved in situations that put them at risk. I agree that sharing your story might do that for some.
If nothing else were to come of it, perhaps other parents who have experienced such a loss might be comforted by the knowledge that they are not alone, that others understand what they are going through. I hope that you continue to write and that it provides you with some solace as well.
yang reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100%% of the Item
im only 18, a male, and have almost no experience with kids but that gave me fear and made me feel anxiety.
im not sure if what i’ll suggest will be taken to any offense or not, but i think you could make a story with that in it. i mean like some plot where the twist at the end revolves around this event. it’s more than likely not what youre aiming for, but just throwing it out there.
im very sorry and i feel for your loss, i havent lost anyone as close as a son (not to mention a parents worst fear of outliving them) but the closest i can relate to is losing my second mother. i try to not write anything depressing or sad about her since i know she wouldnt want me to mourn shes gone but to instead celebrate the time i was with her.
the only reason i didnt give you a high rating was because of the way you did this. sure rough draft blogs are a start, but this would have to be somewhat organized into having the event one day, your memories of him, and the current in three different areas.
this is powerful since the reality of it brings out the emotion of fear and loss.
RoadHousePress reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100%% of the Item
This is not the time to critique your work. For now it is a time to let the spirit that guides you works its way with you. I am glad you are posting this as you can and sharing it with so many friends that you may never meet, but who will hug you in their own special way as they read this journal blog, this memorial to Michael. And then one day, when the time is right and there is more distance from your loss, then it will be time to edit and turn this into a memorial that will live on and help others to cry the tears that are locked within. You are very brave to share this now. Maybe Michael is holding the pen.
Showing 1 - 10 of 11
Next →
Review item
Add to favesCreator
Relevant Links
Item Stats
GENERAL
11 Reviews 14 Comments
Version 1
Latest Activity: about 1 year ago
REVIEW QUEUE
Appeared in Queue: 0 Times
Skipped: 0 Times
Ratings & Rankings
