By Sherrie Cassel It’s so hard to not ruminate on the days leading up to Rikki’s death, when he was so sick and weak – and I was terrified. I try to not think about those things as the anniversary, the tenth, approaches. I just found myself doubled over in pain as a memory piercedContinue reading “One Tin Soldier”
Tag Archives: Grief
As stone is to flint
By Sherrie Cassel As my older brother riffled through our dead mother’s belongings, I sat and waited for his assault on my mother’s last belongings to be over. Her calendar of her days, when each of her children visited or she spoke with us on the phone were priceless items I could not part withContinue reading “As stone is to flint”
On this First Day of the Year
By Sherrie Cassel On this first day of the year, I pledge to honor my emotions as they arise, the good, the bad, and the infantile. Hey, it happens. On this first day of the year, I pledge to be like Michael J. Fox and Stephen Hawking, who, despite their challenges, continue to inspire. OnContinue reading “On this First Day of the Year”
With no particular place to go
By Sherrie Cassel 3 a.m. musings – and I’m wide awake, ruminating on craziness, on the rollercoaster of a 63-year-old life. I’m pushing Medicare age, and, yes, I’m hoping that in the two years I have until I’m “there”, there will still be Medicare. We’ll see. Health insurance, Covered California, while not ideal, is alsoContinue reading “With no particular place to go”
Merry Misnomers
By Sherrie Cassel Thanksgiving has come and gone, and Christmas is on the horizon, speeding toward us, targeting our need to keep up with Jones’s conspicuous consumption. Christmas, in America, is an insane time anyhow, but now with the social pathology taking place in my country and other parts of the world, Christmas is aContinue reading “Merry Misnomers”
We each go grieving on and on, hurrah, hurrah!
By Sherrie Cassel Hokusai Katsushika (1760–1849) Cacti close shop for the winter. Cottontails hibernate. Coyotes come into neighborhoods because their prey has gone underground. Californians hustle and bustle all year round. Southern California has two seasons: perfect and a little less than perfect. I didn’t grow up with fiery hillsides of changing leaves or monthsContinue reading “We each go grieving on and on, hurrah, hurrah!”
Emily Dickinson
by Sherrie Cassel The psychedelic lights undulate on my office ceiling. Springsteen is lightly playing his harmonica, and I am grateful…a sixty-three-year-old hippie wannabe. I wasn’t old enough to be truly aware of the bombs bursting in midair. What does it mean to “lose someone in the war” when you’re only five years old? I’veContinue reading “Emily Dickinson”
Patterns of Imperfection
By Sherrie Cassel Triggers that awaken fears, mourning, rage, despair can be anything, really. Tonight, I was looking through a kaleidoscope, watching the patterns transform into fragments of uniquely and perfectly placed shapes and colors. I could never draw a perfect circle (for me). Even with the protractor, the spot where the pencil marks meetContinue reading “Patterns of Imperfection”
A time to mourn and a time to dance …
By Sherrie Cassel I’ve wanted to know what’s on the bottom of the ocean floor for most of my life, you know, to plumb the depths of the unknown, like Jacques Costeau. Every single day I rise from our bed, wipe the sleep from my eyes, stretch, and greet the day, is another opportunity toContinue reading “A time to mourn and a time to dance …”
Lazarus and Reality
By Sherrie Cassel I’m in MX for a week and some change visiting my younger brother and his senior dog. He won’t let me lift a finger, so it truly is a vacation of being pampered. It’s nice. I don’t interview for the doctoral program until next month, so I’m reading everything I can getContinue reading “Lazarus and Reality”
Grief to Gratitude 