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Susan Wegener, 31, lost her mom in a fatal car accident at age 12. Pauline, 49, writes of mother loss after abusive childhood. Joanne Glasspoole, 38, in honor of her father for his memorial service on 12-4-99 at St. Patrick Church in Centuria, WI. Dyanna Dess, 18, writes of grief for her daddy.
My 21 year old son Douglas (Doug) Lee Warmouth died at 10:30p on Friday night, Sept. 9, 1994, (just six days after his 21st birthday) from a one car alcohol-related accident. He died instantly after being thrown thru the t-tops on his car (they were in at the time), jamming his neck into his body. My life changed from that moment on.
In Feb of this year Daniel went into the hospital for a month. He was comatose for almost two weeks. One night we thought we were going to lose him. I and his mother, some friends and relatives sat by his bed waiting for that last breath. I started to read a sports book to him and after fifteen minutes he just woke up.
The last time I visited her she reminded me again, but as I had so many times, I let it go over my head, not believing her, not even giving it a second's thought. I feel so guilty for that now. I just didn't believe her, I was so sure she'd be around forever.
After David died we were allowed to take as much time as we needed to say good-bye to him. When at last it was my turn, I kissed him and said, "You bastard." I never felt so alone in my life. David was my knight-in-shining-armour. He was my hero, my best friend. The sun for me literaly rose and set on this man. He gave me the world.
That night she responded to our voices, but by 7:00 am on 8-31-97 she took a turn for the worse. Her daddy and I had to make a choice to shut the machines down. The doctors pronounce her brain dead at 3:00 p.m. and we decided since baby loved to make people laugh, we'd donate her heart and kidneys, so now two other families are enjoying their ...
Both my parents died. My dad Thomas (Jack) E. Armstrong died 6-10-97 My mom Marlys (Marty) D. Armstrong died 5-30-98 both died from cancer. My name is Mary and I have 3 brothers 2 older and one younger. The one before me died 16 years ago. I lived with my mother and took care until her last breath. When they died so did a lot of me and I hate it.
The last time I had seen him alive was in January 1992. I was en route to the Midwest for a trip and was compelled to visit him. Our meeting was brief but fulfilling. Bubby shared with me his hopes of resuming college and his dreams for the future as well as intoning me to keep in touch.
My dear brother Adam died in a car accident on September 23rd, 1995, at age 30. The accident was most likely caused by a diabetic reaction. Adam was an African drummer who travelled the U.S with a drum and dance group. He taught many children about African drumming, dance and mythology. He was beautiful in body, mind and spirit. We love you Adam.
In 2004, two years later, a new drug called Pleconaril also successfully reversed most of the disease’s fatal complications. The moment of discovery crushed my spirit. I felt overwhelmed with deep anger and despair that the antiviral medication became available too late for us, but in turn a feeling of hope for the future subsumed those feelings.