#Dead parent

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

anyway shout out to other people in the dead parent club who are going through important benchmarks in life and keep wildly oscillating between celebrating and grieving

[raphaelderberry]

i don’t know maybe it’s because i need to eat something but I’m sad my dad is dead.

[darkness-in-love]

March 2nd 2018

I wish I could’ve made you proud, Mama.

Because deep down,

I know you never were.

I know you think of me as a disgrace,

looking down at me.

I wish you were here.

Guide me. Scold me.

I would do anything to hear your voice again.

To feel your hugs, or your kisses on my forehead.

I know you don’t do them anymore, but please.

I want you there in my engagement party.

and when I get married.

I want you there when I discover I’m having a child.

I want you there when I’m screaming from the pain of giving new life.

I just want you here with me.

I can’t take it anymore, Mama.

I need you.

[aaliymc]

This grief has hands and it’s clawing at my throat.

[winterstaryu]

I think when you lose someone you spend forever wondering how they'd react to things. What they'd say if they were here.

But I don't have to wonder if my mom would be absolutely out for blood if she knew how he treated me. And that feels /nice/

[investyourlove1019]

Had a super fun (totally NOT awkward) conversation with a client’s family today when they asked me “How’s your mom doing?” (Which like I’m not even sure how they would’ve known to ask anything about her??) and I awkwardly had to tell them that she died back in June. And the “family business” I had just mentioned as part of a recent long weekend I had taken was for her celebration of life. Top it all off with “So yea not a great reason to take off. I mean… not not a good reason to take off” you know. Not like that. 🤦‍♀️🥲🫠

[some-mari-thoughts]

Ok I have a less depressing AU idea. Omori, but Sunny and Mari's dad fucking died on the night of the recital, So no Pizza here.

Dear Anon, I guess you have not lost a parent???? I'm glad tbh may it stay that way a lot longer

Losing a parent is incredibly heavy and stressful, no matter how bad or good they are. And up til that day, all we can guess is that the dad was decent/strict, or at least perceived as though by the kids. Sunny only mostly erases him from memory LATER, when he saw him at his worst. We get 3 bits of info abt him, 1 is appearance on photo, one in black space, one from Photo Album overall.

... do you imagine what it'd be like, if they lost a parent in the middle of already being exhausted and stressed out, Sunny being ready to risk love of his whole family (as he likely thought) in that day?

Anyway I can guess that you didn't expect me to this seriously at all, so I'm gonna give u the 2 kids who experienced consequences of his actions in full and started to heal.

[shedoesnt-sleep]

I feel sad and angry and bitter.

I asked my mom if she wanted to help me put up Christmas decorations on Sunday and she said she can’t because she’s going to her boyfriend’s son’s birthday party.

I feel like she has new kids. A new family. And it should be fine now that I’m an “adult” living on my own.

But I hate it. God I hate it, I’m so angry. I don’t know how to get over it. I don’t think I ever will. I can’t stand her with anyone else.

My dads dead and he’s never coming back and I don’t want anyone to fill the spot and no matter what anyone says, a new boyfriend is filling the spot. It is.

[oraangepeeel]

Grief and the holidays

It has been thirteen (13) years since my dad died today and it has been a pretty good day. I miss my dad more than usual today and just during the holidays in general. This is how I coped today.

Today I opened presents with my family at my grandmothers and then had lunch before visiting my boyfriend’s mom and then going to see his dad and his girlfriend. I also played some dragon age which is a coping game of mine

[paranormalxphenomena]

(vent/rant)

Mom,

First of all, I’m fucking 21 and girlll you we’re definitely suppose to be 41 and hitting ALL the clubs with me. Literally nothing in this world is the same without you and I feel robbed of my greatest companion. I just.. literally miss everything. Even the little things and I need you the most rn.. it’s like.. I’m grieving unconditional love and my brain can’t understand why or how or what the fuck is going on. I’ve remained on auto pilot for what feels like an eternity. I can’t catch any fresh air.. I’m somehow breathing in sand or water.. maybe even both and Idk how?? I just. would really like to be held by you or hear your voice one last time or even sleep in my own bed at my house!! I don’t know what home is anymore. I keep running, in hopes to find some sense of security, to find your touch and your love. Your sense of humor. To find literally anything, anyone, any fucking feeling that even reminds me a little of you and I just can’t. I don’t know what to do or where to begin. I hold your urn in such disbelief.. I can’t feel you. Once upon a time we were attach from belly to belly and that doesn’t exist anymore. I can’t trust my own judgement. I’m so afraid and I *really* think ima kms soon. Atp I’m a walking zombie. Please visit me, in a dream, or tell me you love me and that you are here some way or some how. The air is simply to heavy without you here. It was us against the world. And now it’s just fucking me bro. What the fuck

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

i always have a rough time as winter sets in but these last two have been extra rough

[raphaelderberry]

there’s this gay film from 2011 called weekend. It’s great you should watch it.

I must have seen it about a decade ago and I barely remember it now but I remember that one of the characters is obsessed with hearing people’s coming out stories.

it turns out he likes hearing them bc he never got to come out to his parents (I thought they were dead but I re-watched the scene and I think he was just adopted).

I think about that sometimes.

My mum is and always has been very queer-friendly progressive and it’s never been a problem that I’m queer.

Coming out as a man, trying to figure out who I am as a man... I don’t know. it isn’t difficult, exactly? I don’t really care about what’s expected of me and I know so many men who are and aren’t masculine in various different ways.

But I want to know who I could’ve been. I saw an old photo of my dad, he looked younger than I am now, wearing a dangly earring. My mum doesn’t remember him having pierced ears. He must have let it close up. I want so badly to ask him about it.

[kados-of-chaos]

So I keep seeing dead dad things on TikTok and I’m laughing so hard-

(For background my dad died last October and humor is my coping mechanism)

[k-vent-posts]

6/15/24–

just wanted to document some thoughts about my dad. the following is a message i drafted for a friend but didn’t end up sending.

what really gets me that i’ve always been more like my dad, and my brother has always been more like my mom.

so i’ll see something funny or interesting, like a meme or an article, that i recognize as his specific sense of humor or that i know he would enjoy reading. and i could send it to my mom and brother, but they wouldn’t appreciate it the same way.

or i’ll be discussing something with my mom and brother, and i’ll have a certain perspective/opinion on it that i know my dad would have instantly agreed with me on without even having to talk about it. our brains just worked the same in a lot of ways, and i can explain my thoughts to my mom and brother but they don’t Get It the way he did.

[xtrablak674]

[Originally published in Fashion Fag Magazine Vol 1 No 4 November-December Issue 1995 based on a story I wrote in college.]

Man O’ Da House

A Story About My Mother’s Goin’ Home

Mommy!

Mommy?

Mommy.

Where are you? I can't see you. Where did you go? Why is it so dark? Mommy!! Why did you leave me Mommy? Mommy!!!

I sit and wake up in a cold sweat and look over toward the window. The sun is glaring through the metallic Venetian lines, leaving parallel lines of sunlight on the wall. I soon forget what I was dreaming about and my sense of foreboding. As if in suspended animation the air in the room is deathly still. I break the serenity, get up, lean over and turn on the idiot box. I Dream of Jeannie is on, so that means its about six or six-thirty in the morning.

I lie back down and contemplate how I'm gonna approach Mom about the job with the Daily News delivering papers. Mrs. Church my baby sitter said I could get the job if Mom agreed. My birthday is five days away and I am gonna be eleven. As Mom always says 'I am da man o' da house', and she needs help making ends meat. I don't want to have to ask her for money all the time; I hate doing that.

I leave the placidity of my bedroom and walk into the living room to confront Mom. I stop at the threshold and gaze into the room; something is different it mirrors my room with its dead calm. The ever constant old color TV breaks the tranquility, and yet it doesn't it seems to blend into the background and take the form of a voyeur.

I break the static and cross to the head of the couch where Mommy rests. She looks uncomfortable yet at peace, with one leg propped up on the back of the couch, clad in bra and panties, one eye partially open but not enough for her to be awake. This is a regular sleeping position for her.

"Mrs. Church says I could get a job wit' the Daily News if you say it's OK I think I should get it, besides I'm turning eleven and Mrs. Church says I can. So what do you say?"

I look down into her face after my speech awaiting a response.

Silence.

"Well?"

Silence.

"Then forget you then. But Mrs. Church says I can!"

I suck my teeth and storm out of the room. How could she ignore me? Just who does she think she is? Well Mrs. Church says I can have the job. Besides I'm at Mrs. Church's house more then I'm here.

Realization.

Like a wave washing over a beached fish a thought comes to me. What if she's playing dead? A game in recent years she played with my younger brothers and me. I remember how the last time we played it, she woke from her feigned state of eternal rest after I had jokingly picked up the phone and pretended to call the police. My brother Monte didn't like the game and always grew very upset when ever she played it the frequency seeming greater over the last few months. 

I liked it because I could prove to her that I knew how to keep a level head in a dangerous or erratic situation the same way I did when my youngest brother Choan cut open his knee o the bone, and I carried him to this local convenience store to call for help. Blood was gushing all over the place and I kept a cool head, applying pressure to the wound and barking orders to the frazzled attendant of the store. I knew that if she died and we were alone I would keep the situation under control because I was da man o' da house.

Wise to her scheme I walked slowly back into the living room to prove myself more clever. The television blaring like an entity from the Poltergeist movie seemed to prod me on. I stopped at the head of the couch and reached down and touched her forehead.

It is cold.

Are people supposed to be cold when they're asleep? My mind began to race to find an answer to this anomaly. Bad information was put into the program and the computer was malfunctioning. Well your body shuts down at night to conserve energy and repair itself, its logical that it would reduce it's temperature to conserve energy.

I hurry down the hallway to test my new theorem on my brothers. Their shared bedroom is at the back of the apartment the room is chilly but filled with a glow of energy that reminds me of the way you feel after a long hot bath. Monte is closest to the door.

I reach to touch his forehead.

It's warm.

Something isn't right I feel the room began to spin around me, I grab the door frame to steady myself and shake my head to regain focus. Monte is my junior but I think he might be able to help me assess the situation a bit better and shed some light on my confusion.

I shake him.

"Monte I think something is wrong. I felt Mommy's head and it feels cold. Are people cold when they're asleep?"

Before I can finish trying to explain he rushes down the hallway in a frenzy his footsteps sound like a bell tolling in my head as I follow him and find him at the couch shaking Mom and screaming.

"Mom wake up! Mommies wake up! Mom!!"

I am surprisingly calm as I look at him wondering why he's freaking out so. I am feeling a little dizzy, and thinking is getting hard its like trying to run through a pool when the water is above your head. I decide we need an adult intervention and I call Mrs. Church to ask her what to do.

"Hello this is Trevor. Can I speak to Mrs. Church?"

"Hi Trevor it's Mrs. Church. What's the matter?"

"Mrs. Church something is wrong. Mom's forehead feels cold, really cold and she doesn't want to wake up."

I look over at Monte he is crying and holding Mom's hand.

"Listen Trevor calm down and call 911. Then after you call them call me back and let me know what they say"

I am calm, why did she say that?

"OK I'll call you back."

I hang up and look up Chaon is rubbing his eyes and making his way down the hallway.

"Chaon go and sit with Monte and watch TV"

He shuffles oblivious to the foot of the couch between Mom's feet. It's his usual sitting position. Everything is fine here. He groggily sits and stare into the void of the TV not for one moment seeming to acknowledge Monte's visible distress or my rising since of uneasiness.

I pick up the phone and dial 911.

The room seems as if its getting darker even though its mid morning.

"911 Emergency Services. How may I help you?"

"HimynameisTrevorBrownandIthinkthereissomethingthematterwithmymother"

"Trevor. Trevor, calm down and tell me what's the matter."

Why do people keep saying that I am calm.

Breathe. Exhale.

"My mother's head feels really cold... really cold and she won't wake up."

"Trevor slow down and give me your address and I'll send an ambulance over right away OK?"

"MYNAMEISTREVORBROWNILIVEAT1101BROWNSTREETPEEKSKILLNEWYORKAPARTMENT5GZIPCODE10566"

"Thank you Trevor, help is on the way you will be fine"

I didn't feel fine.

The air in the room felt like orange marmalade thick and heavy I felt as if it was getting harder to catch my breath and think. 

I call Mrs. Church gives her an update and she tells me she is going to send her son Marvin over to pick us up and to get dressed. I tell Monte and Chaon to go get dressed. When Monte and Chaon  come back we all sit on the couch and watch Tom & Jerry. It is very hard to focus on the cartoon antics, my mind races over the mornings events wondering if there is something I should have done differently. I look over at Monte's tear streak face and wish I could be as free as him to let go but I don't have that luxury I am da man o' da house and I have got to be strong and keep the situation under control.

I sit quietly dry eyed and wait.

After what seems like a lifetime the intercom rings, I jump up and answer it. It's Marvin and the paramedics. I buzz them in and mindlessly sit back down. I look into Mom's face making a mental note to never forget the expression that is written across it. No more pain of chemotherapy and losing her left breast and hair, or the men in her life hurting her, or even the Cinderella-like betrayal of her family. No more worrying about how she was going to feed us, clothe us, no more rent, no more work for her grey streaked hair. The calmness on her face is like a serene lake in the mountains untouched by mortal hands.

A knock on the door interrupts my inflection. I drift to the door and open it. The paramedics dash through the door and over to the couch.

Too late.

Marvin follows the room is taken over by loud commands and noisy machinery . Marvin tells us to go down to the car out back and wait for him. I try to see what they are doing to Mom but I am pushed out along with my brothers. Wait don't they know I am da man o' da house? I should be right there besides my mother seeing what is going on. But in the rush of everything and the reality that I am just a child I am ignored and so I join my brothers in Marvin's yellow car.

This was the last time I saw my mother.

Within the next few days of which I have little to no recollection I was eventually shuffled off to the Bronx to live with my paternal grandparents and my brothers off to live with my Cousin Margaret. What about a funeral or memorial you ask? They said we were too young to go to a funeral that we would not have understood or know how to behave.

TOO YOUNG to mourn your mother's death the woman who had carried you for nine months in her belly, breast fed you at her teat, the woman you had lived your entire life with? Too young to say good bye to someone who fed clothed and nurtured you, who defended you when people were out to hurt or mislead you? Too young indeed!

To this day I do not know anything about the disposition of my mother's remains. I heard she was cremated and buried, but I don't know cause of death. Some say it was cancer, some say it wasn't whose to believe. No one has answers to my questions when I ask them. I know that some day I will find her and let her know her man o' da house is doing alright.

[Photos by Brown Estate]

[scarlet-the-girl]

Well, no one else is going to write fan fiction about my OCs in the Rise of the Runelords campaign I'm in.