Death is scary for our culture. We don’t talk about it until we literally have no other choice, no way to avoid it anymore. And oftentimes, by then, it’s too late. We don’t know what our loved ones want or don’t for treatment, for final arrangements. We don’t tell them all things we want to say before they can’t answer back. At least, that’s what happened to me with my grandmother, leaving me with only her favorite broach and a lifetime of regrets. Her death spurred me to work with the terminally ill in the first place, to guide others to avoid the same mistakes.
Category: Realistic Fiction
I am so sorry I’ve been so long in updating but the government found me. They detained me for two weeks, drilling me with question after question about what I saw when I drove that young lady out in my boat. For the longest time, they didn’t believe my innocence in the whole ordeal but…
If you’re reading this, I’ve been gone more than 24 hours. Cap agreed to send out everything I’ve found as soon as I failed to check in. I may be dead, lost or something even worse. I can’t be sure. I told him the most important thing he could do for me is to make…
I found a working iPhone on the bottom of the ocean. It caught my eye during a routine dive when it lit up with a notification. Seemed like it went through hell before getting to me, so I was amazed it still worked. There’s a news story about it here. The problem is that nothing…