The 5 stages of loss and grief


1. Denial and Isolation

Jeffery Lynn

October 8, 1958

Dear Diary,

I can’t believe I’m sitting here; last night – when we went to bed – everything seemed fine; she wasn’t coughing, vomiting, or anything of the sort.  And then, just wham, I couldn’t wake her this morning.

I don’t know what’s going on, but I know my Melba’s a fighter.  I can’t stand it; everyone around here’s just full of doom and gloom.

I know my Melba’s sick, but she’ll make it; all of these doctors and nurses don’t know squat.

I don’t care about all their degrees and educations; my Melba’s going to pull through: she always has, and she always will.

2. Anger

Shirley Matthews

June 3, 1979

Dear Diary,

They can’t just give up now, I can beat this damn disease; apparently, I’m not a viable transplant candidate.

I know a liver transplant would be a long-shot but I just can’t sit here ideally by and wait to die.

“It doesn’t matter who you are, if you work here, I hate you.”

I can’t stand this bullshit, while my doctor goes on happily living his life, he’s given up on mine.

If it weren’t for Dr. Shepherd, I’d get that transplant.

Christ, next time I see him, I’m going to wrench that bastard by the neck and squeeze.

And while I’m at it, I’d like to just beat the hell out this place, tear it apart, and burn the whole damn thing to the ground.It doesn’t matter who you are, if you work here, I hate you.

3. Bargaining

Joshua Lee

December 6, 2004

Dear Diary,

I know, I’ve made mistakes; I’ve screwed up, but he doesn’t deserve this; God, please, I’m begging you; please just help him; I’ll do anything; I don’t care if he’ll be able walk or talk again; none of that matters, I just want to bring him home.

If you help him, I’ll promise to dedicate myself to helping the poor and less fortunate.

Please, I’ll do anything God, please.

4. Depression

Anna Gipson

December 25, 1933

Dear Diary,

I can’t believe how much everything’s changed; at this time last year, we were opening gifts, laughing, and sitting by the fire; now, the house is empty; a mother should never have to bbury their child, she was just too young.

I’d do anything to trade my place with her; I’m thinking about just ending it; I’m a widow, childless, and life isn’t worth living anymore.

It’s Christmas, and I’m alone, the house echoes with silence.

5. Acceptance

August 8, 1989

Russell Arthur

Dear Diary,

I can’t change the cards I’ve been dealt, I can just play my hand.

If I’m going to die, I’m going to die with dignity.  I’ve got sometime, I’ve decided against chemo.

I can’t beat this thing; I just want to enjoy my last few months; I have a few things I want to do, maybe I’ll jump out of an airplane or take that bull riding class.

I mean, after all, I’m going to die anyway; I might as well cross some of the things off my bucket list.

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