A memoir about how it unexpectedly rained while the sun was out, creating a rainbow on the day my short story dedicated to my sensitive grandfather was published.
My short mwmoir was published in the July issue of Mom's Favorite reads eMagazine.
That was a beautiful, heartfelt story. Thank you for sharing your loss with us and the lovely way you discovered your grandfather's continued presence in your life.
I read your story about how you struggled with writing something for your grandfather when he died. From what you did write later in this article leads me to believe that he was not only a happy person, but a very emotional one went overwhelmed with happiness. I recall that only happened to me once. Only witnessed by my sister's friend who came to visit me in the hospital when I was crying because I was so happy to be alive.
I remember vividly my maternal grandfather's funeral. It was a dreary spring day and so sad. He had been calling for his only son, my uncle, for a week before he died, but my uncle had disappeared into another life because his trucking business was failing, his father was dying and he needed to get away from his obligation to five children from two wives. Thinking back now, I could write great stories about both of my grandfathers. Back then, I wasn't writing stories, I was making them happen in my life.
And for some reason, I don't remember my paternal grandfather's death from prostate cancer. If there was a funeral, I didn't go to it. It probably happened five weeks I was in the hospital after surgery that paralyzed me. Maybe my father didn't want me to know in my condition at that time.
(Richard M. Feldman) Ever since I was a young boy, the only thing I wanted to be was a cowboy. I wanted to own and work on a real ranch, with cattle and horses. Especially horses.
While I never became a cowboy, considering everything I have done
She never felt safe at home as a young girl, and didn't understand why when she finally escaped she wasn't safe in the big wide world either ...effectively jumping out of the frying pan into the fire!
Rosetta was born in 1909 as the youngest of ten children. The family had more laughter than money and neighbors would knock on their door to ask, "Can we come in and laugh, too?"
