Deceased Parents Quotes

It's no accident that most ads are pitched to people in their 20s and 30s. Not only are they so much cuter than their elders...but they are less likely to have gone through the transformative process of cleaning out their deceased parents' stuff. Once you go through that, you can never look at *your* stuff in the same way. You start to look at your stuff a little postmortemistically. If you've lived more than two decades as an adult consumer, you probably have quite the accumulation, even if you're not a hoarder...I'm not saying I never buy stuff, because I absolutely do. Maybe I'm less naive about the joys of accumulation.

One only has to watch aging siblings scrap over the worthless pots and pans and scuffed furniture of a deceased parent's estate- like toddlers over toys- to see how desperate is the need to wrest some last, pathetic, tangible measure of their parent's devotion.

Suppose you’re called on to navigate some particularly difficult life dilemma, your own, or that of a close confidant. You yearn to talk matters over with your mentor, spouse, or best friend. Yet, for whatever reason, you can’t get a hold of these valued others—perhaps they’re traveling, busy, or even deceased. Research shows that simply imagining having a conversation with them is as good as actually talking with them. So consult them in your mind. Ask them what advice they’d offer. In this way, a cherished parent or mentor, even if deceased, leaves you with an inner voice that guides you through challenging times. Your past moments of love and connection make you lastingly wiser.

By tradition, a teacher was a most revered figure, a mentor for life, who imparted wisdom as well as knowledge, and who must be respected like a parent. (The murder of a teacher was classified as parricide, which, like treason, was punishable by death of a thousand cuts.) Emperors and princes set up shrines in their homes to honour their deceased tutors.

People say they miss the deceased. I missed my father and my mother when they were still fully alive. They travelled through my childhood in the same way they moved around the hotel: my mother industrious, hurried, hidden; my father drunk, flamboyant, alone.

Werner and his younger sister, Jutta, are raised at Children's House, a clinker-brick two-story orphanage on Viktoriastrasse whose rooms are populated with the coughs of sick children and the crying of newborns and battered trunks inside which drowse the last possessions of deceased parents: patchwork dresses, tarnished wedding cutlery, faded ambrotypes of fathers swallowed by the mines.

The “rising tide” theory rested on a notion of separate but equal class ladders. And so there was a class of black poor and an equivalent class of white poor, a black middle class and a white middle class, a black elite and a white elite. From this angle, the race problem was merely the result of too many blacks being found at the bottom of their ladder—too many who were poor and too few who were able to make their way to the next rung. If one could simply alter the distribution, the old problem of “race” could be solved. But any investigation into the actual details revealed that the ladders themselves were not equal—that to be a member of the “black race” in America had specific, quantifiable consequences. Not only did poor blacks tend to be much less likely to advance up their ladder, but those who did stood a much greater likelihood of tumbling back. That was because the middle-class rung of the black ladder lacked the financial stability enjoyed by the white ladder. Whites in the middle class often brought with them generational wealth—the home of a deceased parent, a modest inheritance, a gift from a favorite uncle. Blacks in the middle class often brought with them generational debt—an incarcerated father, an evicted niece, a mother forced to take in her sister’s kids. And these conditions, themselves, could not be separated out from the specific injury of racism, one that was not addressed by simply moving up a rung. Racism was not a singular one-dimensional vector but a pandemic, afflicting black communities at every level, regardless of what rung they occupied. From that point forward the case for reparations seemed obvious and the case against it thin. The sins of slavery did not stop with slavery. On the contrary, slavery was but the initial crime in a long tradition of crimes, of plunder even, that could be traced into the present day. And whereas a claim for reparations for slavery rested in the ancestral past, it was now clear that one could make a claim on behalf of those who were very much alive.

The Family and Medical Leave Act, for example, only entitles spouses, grown children, and parents to take time off to care for a sick loved one. If a childless single person falls ill, only her parents have the legal right to take off work to care for her. If they’re deceased or not up to the task, she’s out of luck. Even if she has a sister, niece, or best friend willing to take a leave, they won’t be legally entitled to do so. No one has the right to care for her.

Our sages say burying someone is considered the truest form of kindness and respect, as the deceased will not be able to thank you for it." That’s kind of funny, actually, since Dad was not exactly prone to expressing gratitude to his children when he was still alive. You were either screwing up, or you were invisible. He was quiet and stern in a way that led you to expect an Eastern European accent. He had soft blue eyes and unusually thick forearms, and when he made a fist it looked like he could punch through anything. He mowed his own lawn, washed his own car, and painted his own house. He did all these things capably, painstakingly, and in a way that silently passed judgment on anyone who paid for someone else to do it. He rarely laughed at jokes, just nodded his understanding, as if it was all pretty much what he’d expected. Of course, there was a lot more to him that that, it’s just that none of it is coming to me right now. At some point you lose sight of your actual parents; you just see a basketful of history and unresolved issues.

None of the neighbouring ladies would stand as godmother, for they were secretly dubious as to the children's origin; so he had asked good Mrs. Spaniel to act in that capacity. She, a simple kindly creature, was much flattered, though certainly she can have understood very little of the symbolical rite. Gissing, filling out the form that Mr. Poodle had given him, had put down the names of an entirely imaginary brother and sister-in-law of his, "deceased," whom he asserted as the parents.

Some of my close friends could easily be deceased; this would not have a serious effect on our relationship.

The Jitong chapter of the Book of Rites says, “There are three ways of caring for one’s parents: when they are alive, look after them; when they are deceased, tend to the death rites; when the death rites have been completed, offer them sacrifice.

Here it is necessary briefly to consider the question of the cult of ancestors before venturing farther. The spirits of the departed are believed to be possessed of supernatural powers which they did not enjoy in the flesh. They may also be dissatisfied or malignant in consequence of being suddenly deprived of life, and if they are neglected by the living, are apt to be revengeful. Therefore they must be cajoled and propitiated. Fear of beings belonging to a mysterious state or sphere of which he knew nothing continually haunted and terrified primitive man and induced in him what is known as" the dread of the sacred." It was every man's personal duty to attend to the demands or requirements of his deceased ancestors. At first he would succour his own immediate forebears with food and gifts; but it must have been borne in upon him that when his parents joined the great majority, the care of the spirits of their parents likewise devolved upon him... and, by degrees, he might even come to regard himself as responsible for the well-being of a line of spirit ancestors of quite formidable genealogy. These, through his neglect, might starve in their tombs; or, alternatively, they might crave his company. Because of vengeance or loneliness they might send disease upon him, for the savage almost invariably believes illness to be brought about by the action of jealous or neglected ancestors. The loneliness of the spirit-world is the dead man's greatest excuse for desiring the company of his descendants.

....she has realized why people believe in a soul. It's because they have to for they have no other choice. It's hard to bear that all the conversations, all the memories you had with your parents,with your sisters, with the person you loved were burnt or buried, snuffed out of life. So conveniently, people invented the soul, not for the benefit of the deceased, but the loved ones he or she left behind, to make them feel that while they suffer, he or she is watching, and that they equally miss them, like they, too, think of them, and they, too, are watching him. We can't think of the people we love as bodies buried in caskets or an urn full of ashes, so we think of them as a concentrated mist of nothingness which we call the human soul. No matter how hard they we try to make ourselves believe that they are around us, the truth is that they are gone.

The fertile minds at the curia had managed to create an indulgence for every imaginable situation and every imaginable sin. For a price, an illegitimate child could be made legitimate, as could the right to trade with the infidel, or marry a first cousin, or buy stolen goods. Dispensations were also created for special niche markets such as nuns who wished to keep maids, converted Jews who wished to visit unconverted parents, and people who wanted to be buried in two places (a wish that required cutting the deceased in half).

He wished he didn’t have to recite his personal details while standing in a public hall. He tried to be stoic, but it wasn’t long before he was mumbling and stuttering his answers. He felt the blood come to his face. He was an only child; his parents were deceased; he was well educated and gainfully employed; he was married; he had no children. Confessing himself so succinctly embarrassed him in a manner he could hardly express. In short form, he seemed so unremarkable, so unaccomplished. Perhaps he was unremarkable. But he didn’t feel that way.

....she has realized why people believe in a soul. It's because they have to for they have no other choice. It's hard to bear that all the conversations, all the memories you had with your parents,with your sisters, with the person you loved were burnt or buried, snuffed out of life. So conveniently, people invented the soul, not for the benefit of the deceased, but the loved ones he or she left behind, to make them feel that while they suffer, he or she is watching, and that they equally miss them, like they, too, think of them, and they, too, are watching him.

The percentage of people reporting contact with the dead in surveys ranges anywhere from 42 to 72 percent. Widows having contact with their deceased husbands can go as high as 92 percent.1 If the surveys had included children and deathbed encounters, which are extremely common, the percentages would have been even heftier. A whopping 75 percent of parents who lost a child had an encounter within a year of the child’s death.2 But a sad 75 percent of all those who had encounters reported not mentioning them to anyone for fear of ridicule.3 It’s hard to believe that a society can deny the validity of an experience shared by so large a proportion of its population. But we do. Many organized and not-so-organized religions go so far as to condemn communication with the dead, a position that at least admits contact is possible. Until recently, near-death experiencers have suffered great distress from disbelief and derision, silenced by those

Narrative. As our minds develop, eventually we try to make sense of our lives. We take the input from our awareness of our conscious, vertical, horizontal and memory domains, and begin to tell our stories, with most of that content being nonverbal and nonconscious in nature. This narrative is highly influenced by our most intimate attachment relationships. Thus, who I am (i.e., what I tell myself about myself in visual images, sensations and feelings as well as words) is always going to be understood in terms of my current relationships—and by current I am referring to all relationships, past or present, that currently are influencing my mind’s activity. Thus, even people who are deceased can continue to have sway over my life, depending on how I continue to process my ongoing experiences with my memory of them. This is why I can continue to have feelings of shame when I have memories of events involving a parent who is no longer living.

Afterward, when Trump had phone calls with the families of others from the military who had been killed, the White House staff noticed how hard and tough it seemed for him. “He’s not that guy,” Bannon said. “He’s never really been around the military. He’s never been around military family. Never been around death.” The deaths of “parents of small kids” struck him particularly hard. “That had a big impact on him, and it’s seen throughout everything.” A staffer who sat in on several calls that Trump made to Gold Star families was struck with how much time and emotional energy Trump devoted to them. He had a copy of material from the deceased service member’s personnel file. “I’m looking at his picture—such a beautiful boy,” Trump said in one call to family members. Where did he grow up? Where did he go to school? Why did he join the service? “I’ve got the record here,” Trump said. “There are reports here that say how much he was loved. He was a great leader.” Some in the Oval Office had copies of the service records. None of what Trump cited was there. He was just making it up. He knew what the families wanted to hear.

The percentage of people reporting contact with the dead in surveys ranges anywhere from 42 to 72 percent. Widows having contact with their deceased husbands can go as high as 92 percent.1 If the surveys had included children and deathbed encounters, which are extremely common, the percentages would have been even heftier. A whopping 75 percent of parents who lost a child had an encounter within a year of the child’s death.2 But a sad 75 percent of all those who had encounters reported not mentioning them to anyone for fear of ridicule.3 It’s hard to believe that a society can deny the validity of an experience shared by so large a proportion of its population. But we do. Many organized and not-so-organized religions go so far as to condemn communication with the dead, a position that at least admits contact is possible. Until recently, near-death experiencers have suffered great distress from disbelief and derision, silenced by those they were expected to trust most, their families and physicians. The same holds for people on the verge of death, since the phenomena they typically experience, such as visits from the dead and visions of the other side, are treated as symptoms of dementia. All these people are between a rock and a hard place.

As parents, we’re on grief overload. We yearn for our deceased child, and we hurt for our other kids too. Our hearts are doubly crushed. Parenting right now can feel about as doable as swimming unassisted across an ocean. Even with other kids in the mix, our focus should still be to grieve responsibly and in a healthy manner. We love our other kids by first taking good care of ourselves. If we don’t process our own grief, it will leak out in ways which will not benefit our families.

You’re now re-entering your reality. It’s a part of your life. You learn new ways to live your current reality. You start molding and adjusting to your new life. You try to live in this new norm where you’re okay with missing the deceased one. You might try to resist and not accept the new norm. But eventually, through bits and pieces, you start accepting. You come to terms with the fact that your loved one is not going to come back. You cannot maintain your past life, but you start learning and growing in this new life where you move forward along with your deceased one in your mind, heart, and soul.

PRAYER With these inspirations in our hearts and minds, we turn to you, Jesus, and pray. Lord, help us to be constantly aware that life is precious. Liberate us from our life-wasting habits so that we can live life to the fullest. Nudge us when we feel tempted to waste a day or an hour, or even a few minutes. Remove any judgment from our hearts that causes us to think of ourselves as different from or better than others in any way. Warm our hearts so that we may see that it is within our power to help other people clean up their messes, and to act with the generous mercy you have shown us. Jesus, we offer this decade to you for our own mothers—living or deceased—and for all mothers. We pray for all the children who will be born today. May they each have at least one person in their lives to teach them to walk with you. We pray in a special way for single mothers and for all those couples struggling to conceive a child, and for all parents who have lost a child. Mary, pray for us and share your wisdom with all mothers. Amen.

No one is writing any condolence notes to the deceased’s parents. People blame them for creating a monster and setting him loose on the world. I think that life tends to be more complicated that. He did awful things, yes, but he was so, so young. He had his entire life ahead of him. I seem to be alone in wanting to believe there was hope for his redemption.

Aelin Galathynius, heir to the throne of Terrasen, died today, or sometime in the night. Before help could reach her deceased parents’ estate, the assassin who had missed her the night before returned. Her body has still not been found, though some believe it was thrown into the river behind her parents’ house.

We need to take yet another step in reconsidering mourning: resurrecting and redefining, rather than discarding, the significance of detaching from the dead. Paradoxically, detachment is an integral part of the mature posthumous bond as an adult maintains with a parent. It helps us uncover the essence of the relationship beyond the noise of interaction. I believe that what we disconnect from if we are lucky and effective mourners, is not the relationship with deceased parents per se but rather the way we were embedded in that relationship when they were alive. This new stance permits us to reinterpret the past and expands our understanding of what our parents were in relation to them, enhancing recognition, compassion, and sympathy for all concerned. This type of detachment radically changed my life, and the lives of the people I interviewed, for the better. When we finally see with adult eyes, we can recover as well as discover our parents’ hidden strengths and discard their newly obvious weaknesses. Detachment, the perspective it affords, and the growth it makes possible, is the greatest death benefit of all, and the prerequisite for all the rest. 62 Acting responsibly may not be glamorous, but it matters in the end. 194 Your Prescription for Collecting Death Benefits Four Practices to Cultivate Death Benefits Motivate Anticipate Meditate Activate (includes the Three Steps below) Three Steps to Reap Death Benefits Construct a narrative of your parent’s history Conduct a Psychological Inventory of your parent’s character (Includes the Four Questions below) Seek experiences and relationships to create necessary changes Four Questions for Conducting Your Psychological Inventory What did you get from your parent that you want to keep? What did your parent have that you regret not getting? What did you get from your parent that you want to discard? What did you need that your parent couldn’t provide? 215

We need to take yet another step in reconsidering mourning: resurrecting and redefining, rather than discarding, the significance of detaching from the dead. Paradoxically, detachment is an integral part of the mature posthumous bond as an adult maintains with a parent. It helps us uncover the essence of the relationship beyond the noise of interaction. I believe that what we disconnect from if we are lucky and effective mourners, is not the relationship with deceased parents per se but rather the way we were embedded in that relationship when they were alive. This new stance permits us to reinterpret the past and expands our understanding of what our parents were in relation to them, enhancing recognition, compassion, and sympathy for all concerned. This type of detachment radically changed my life, and the lives of the people I interviewed, for the better. When we finally see with adult eyes, we can recover as well as discover our parents’ hidden strengths and discard their newly obvious weaknesses. Detachment, the perspective it affords, and the growth it makes possible, is the greatest death benefit of all, and the prerequisite for all the rest. 62 Acting responsibly may not be glamorous, but it matters in the end. 194 Your Prescription for Collecting Death Benefits Four Practices to Cultivate Death Benefits Motivate Anticipate Meditate Activate (includes the Three Steps below ) Three Steps to Reap Death Benefits Construct a narrative of your parent’s history Conduct a Psychological Inventory of your parent’s character (Includes the Four Questions below) Seek experiences and relationships to create necessary changes Four Questions for Conducting Your Psychological Inventory What did you get from your parent that you want to keep? What did your parent have that you regret not getting? What did you get from your parent that you want to discard? What did you need that your parent couldn’t provide? 215

We need to take yet another step in reconsidering mourning: resurrecting and redefining, rather than discarding, the significance of detaching from the dead. Paradoxically, detachment is an integral part of the mature posthumous bond as an adult maintains with a parent. It helps us uncover the essence of the relationship beyond the noise of interaction. I believe that what we disconnect from if we are lucky and effective mourners, is not the relationship with deceased parents per se but rather the way we were embedded in that relationship when they were alive. This new stance permits us to reinterpret the past and expands our understanding of what our parents were in relation to them, enhancing recognition, compassion, and sympathy for all concerned. This type of detachment radically changed my life, and the lives of the people I interviewed, for the better. When we finally see with adult eyes, we can recover as well as discover our parents’ hidden strengths and discard their newly obvious weaknesses. Detachment, the perspective it affords, and the growth it makes possible, is the greatest death benefit of all, and the prerequisite for all the rest. 62 Acting responsibly may not be glamorous, but it matters in the end. 194 Your Prescription for Collecting Death Benefits Four Practices to Cultivate Death Benefits 1. Motivate 2. Anticipate 3. Meditate 4. Activate (includes the Three Steps below) Three Steps to Reap Death Benefits 1. Construct a narrative of your parent’s history 2. Conduct a Psychological Inventory of your parent’s character (Includes the Four Questions below) 3. Seek experiences and relationships to create necessary changes Four Questions for Conducting Your Psychological Inventory 1. What did you get from your parent that you want to keep? 2. What did your parent have that you regret not getting? 3. What did you get from your parent that you want to discard? 4. What did you need that your parent couldn’t provide? 215

Renesme Fractures Nickname: Ness or Ren girl age: 16 Junior black hair rainbow eyes Heterosexual Personality: Fun, smart, but quiet, sticks to drawing and her books. siblings: deceased Parents: deceased father: power of storm mother: power of fire Wolf shifter Powers: to summon and control fire, earth, and storm. Familiar: wolf named luca Loves art, reading, and music History: Lost her parents and brothers when she was 5, she was the youngest of 5. In foster care til she got a letter on her birthday inviting her here completely paid for. Luca appeared when she 5 shortly after she lost here family. She also skipped 7th grade. Friends: Comet Royce Relationship: (Saved for Cameron Augustine)

Talk Out Loud Choose a time when you’re alone at home. Sit on a chair and imagine the deceased is sitting opposite you. Speak openly and freely about everything that has happened. The incident, the cause of your pain, the reason you can’t seem to forgive, and how it affected your relationship with that person. When you talk it out loud, you’re releasing the energy of anger, pain, and frustration into the universe. Now that the person has passed away, you don’t need to hold onto the pain. I understand that certain situations require a great deal of bravery to forgive. You might have gone through physical or sexual abuse, which, in no means, is easy to get over. But remember that holding on to abuse is giving more power to the offender. Suffering only empowers the abuser. Let out all your frustration to take your power back and move on to a beautiful and happier life.

No Shows I woke up this morning but there were some no shows. My wife, Darcy, died of pancreatic cancer at 31; one day she came from a routine checkup and the next month she was gone. My oldest daughter, Jenna, was 9 at the time, and 9 years later she OD’d on something; I asked the coroner not to tell me ‘what’ but ‘why’? My youngest daughter, Sylvia, hasn’t talk to me since, so I guess that counts as a no show. My parents are long gone, my brothers and sisters, dispersed over the world, rarely email. My cousins, uncles, aunts, are all distant or deceased. So when I woke up this morning, I counted the no shows like sheep and fell back into a welcome sleep where everyone still showed up.

Mid May 2012 Andy wrote in his Email reply: Dear Young, You are still the boy I grew to love and cherish forty-four years ago. The lyrics you sent, to “The Things You Are To Me” brought back many fond memories of our time together. You, young man, do have a way with words. In more ways than one, you always touched the core of my heart with your innocence and childlike approach to life. Walter is a lucky man to have you in his life. I wish I were in his shoes, you little ‘faerie’ boy, stirring up an emotional storm within me which I had kept hidden for so long. Now that our parents are deceased, we can be free from the emotional baggage imposed upon us. You had mentioned briefly that you are writing your memoirs. I hope you are not revealing anything that we pledged to never reveal. My advice to you is to stay clear of those subjects. It is not advisable to tamper with the school or the Society, especially when you swore an oath, a gentlemanly honor of confidentiality to never reveal any of our membership secrets. If the word gets out, the paparazzi will have a field day digging for whatever dirt they can find. I hate to see you being sued by any parties involved. I’m speaking to you as a trusted friend, confidant, and ex- lover. Tread with caution, Young! You are old enough to decide for yourself. I’m sure you don’t need your ex-Valet to tell you what to do. Please send my regards to Walter and maybe we’ll have a chance to meet one day, soon. Let’s continue our regular correspondence. My love always! Andy.

Another time, the souls of a husband and wife came through to validate their presence to their daughter with a very specific shtick. The dad had me yell, “Bingo!” at which point Mom’s soul said, “They don’t have bingo on TV. It’s The Price Is Right!” The daughter laughed so hard and said that game show was her parents’ favorite. She used to call them when they were alive, and they’d say, “We need to call you back. The Big Deal is on right now!” When the daughter’s son was born, he came into the world right before the Big Deal aired, and the family joked that the baby was the Big Deal of the day. The mom’s soul also had me add that she likes Bob Barker better than Drew Carey as a host. Hey, that certainly wasn’t me talking! I think they’re both great. And though there’s a lot to be happy about in Heaven, people who were crabby or bossy here don’t seem to become unusually chipper. I’ll never forget when I channeled a woman’s parents, and I got a grumpy vibe from them. I asked the daughter, “Were your parents cranky?” And at the same time that the woman said, “No, my parents were wonderful,” her husband mouthed, “Hell yeah, they were cranky!” Grief can cause us to romanticize the deceased, so I took the husband’s word on this one.

And though there’s a lot to be happy about in Heaven, people who were crabby or bossy here don’t seem to become unusually chipper. I’ll never forget when I channeled a woman’s parents, and I got a grumpy vibe from them. I asked the daughter, “Were your parents cranky?” And at the same time that the woman said, “No, my parents were wonderful,” her husband mouthed, “Hell yeah, they were cranky!” Grief can cause us to romanticize the deceased, so I took the husband’s word on this one. In a three-thousand-person venue, Spirit also had me point directly to one guy and say, “You, your father wants you to get up. Is that your mom? He wants her up too. He says you’re a frigging idiot for what you did to the lawn.” Turns out the man had just bought a new ride-on tractor and destroyed an acre of his land because he didn’t know how to work it. Then he told his wife to stop knocking on her son’s door and bothering him so much. Though Dad was doing his thing in Heaven, he still thought of himself as the man of the house.

parents have the young ones touch the person’s face. Children need to understand the reality of life and death as a reminder to each of us that we must strive to live right, for who knows when our time will come. After the viewing, we emerged from the shed, and everyone still lingered. A buggy was brought around to us — as is always the case for the family of the deceased — and then the others followed us to the graveyard

Mr. Tibble bowed his head, and Amanda was immediately sorry she’d spoken with such cool disdain. She did not like to see timid Mr. Tibble quake, but she was having a hard time controlling her displeasure. The envelope she’d let fall to her lap, standing out so glaringly white against the skirt of her black bombazine gown, might contain a letter from her deceased parents using just the sort of tender words she’d longed to hear from them

envelope she’d let fall to her lap, standing out so glaringly white against the skirt of her black bombazine gown, might contain a letter from her deceased parents using just the sort of tender words she’d longed to hear from them

My father often told me of the folkways of the shtiebel.   For one thing, you didn’t go to shul, the synagogue, at midnight. After all, the dead are pious Jews, and they too need to gather to pray. You just don’t want to be in their company when they do. When we put stones on the tombstones at the cemetery, we did this as a sign that the deceased was not forgotten, but that dear ones had come by to pay their respect. But for whom is this sign? After all, the living know they were there. The sign is for the dead, so that when they arise at night to chat among themselves, they can take comfort in having been visited and enjoy bragging about it to their neighbors. How do we stop the plague when it strikes the shtetl? We find an orphan boy and an orphan girl, bring them to the cemetery, set up a huppah, and marry them off. Their deceased parents will find rest for their souls in seeing their children set right in their lives, and their pleas to heaven on behalf of their children will surely bring an end to the plague.

Pictures old photographs hang on the wall of loved ones: far away, long since moved or recently deceased.   i dread each new picture that joins, the clips and my heart already sagging from the weight of loss. Mac & Cheese gathered around the kitchen counter, we share dinner of macaroni and cheese. we share dinner, my parents and i, as though no time had passed, the same plates holding the noodles as when i was just learning to hold a fork.

There is another duty of strict Justice which regards children; they are obliged to pray for their deceased parents. Reciprocally in their turn parents are bound by natural right not to forget before God those of their children who have preceded them into eternity. Alas! there are parents who are inconsolable at the loss of a son or of a dearly beloved daughter, and who, instead of praying for them, bestow upon them nothing but a few fruitless tears. Let us hear what Thomas of Cantimpré relates on this subject; the incident happened in his own family. The grandmother of Thomas had lost a son in whom she had centred her fondest hopes. Day and night she wept for him and refused all consolation. In the excess of her grief she forgot the great duty of Christian love, and did not think of praying for that soul so dear to her. The unfortunate object of this barren tenderness languished amid the flames of Purgatory, receiving no alleviation in his sufferings. Finally God took pity on him. One day, whilst plunged in the depths of her grief, this woman had a miraculous vision. She saw on a beautiful road a procession of young men, as graceful as angels, advancing full of joy towards a magnificent city. She understood that they were souls from Purgatory making their triumphal entry into Heaven. She looked eagerly to see if among their ranks she could not discover her son. Alas! the child was not there; but she perceived him approaching far behind the others, sad, suffering, and fatigued, his garments drenched with water. “Oh, dear object of my grief,” she cried out to him, “how is it that you remain behind that brilliant band? I should wish to see you at the head of your companions.” “Mother,” replied the child in a plaintive tone, “it is you, it is these tears which you shed over me that moisten and soil my garments, and retard my entrance into the glory of Heaven. Cease to abandon yourself to a blind and useless grief. Open your heart to more Christian sentiments. If you truly love me, relieve me in my sufferings; apply some indulgences to me, say prayers, give alms, obtain for me the fruits of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. It is by this means that you will prove your love; for by so doing you will deliver me from prison where languish, and bring me forth to eternal life, which is far more desirable than the life terrestrial which you have given me.” Then the vision disappeared, and that mother, thus admonished and brought back to true Christian sentiments, instead of giving way to immoderate grief, applied to the practice of every good work which could give relief to the soul of her son. The

She pictures clearly the gray cement floor of her parents’ sitting room, feels its solid chill underfoot even on the hottest days. An enormous black-and-white photograph of her deceased paternal grandfather looms at one end against the pink plaster wall;

One of the main legislative tasks of the Republic of Texas had been to determine whether Spanish and Mexican marriage laws were valid under the new political regime. The resulting legislation would affect the inheritance rights and economic livelihoods of most families in Texas. The Texas Congress had adopted English common law regarding marriage practices. If Congress nullified the former governments’ marriage laws, all marriages that took place before Texas independence would be declared null and void, including those of Anglo-Americans. Families formed under the previous governments’ laws and conventions would be deemed illegitimate, and under English common law, any children from such families would be unable to inherit property from a deceased parent, including land grants issued by empresarios under Mexican law.

although the name of Osiris was, as we shall by-and-by see, given to those who departed in the faith. "When the bodies of persons of distinction" [in Egypt], says Wilkinson, quoting Porphyry, "were embalmed, they took out in intestines and put them into a vessel, over which (after some other rites had been performed for the dead) one of the embalmers pronounced an invocation to the sun in behalf of the deceased." The formula, according to Euphantus, who translated it from the original into Greek, was as follows: "O thou Sun, our sovereign lord! and all ye Deities who have given life to man, receive me, and grant me an abode with the eternal gods. During the whole course of my life I have scrupulously worshipped the gods my father taught me to adore; I have ever honoured my parents, who begat this body; I have killed no one; I have not defrauded any, nor have I done any injury to any man." Thus the merits, the obedience, or the innocence of man was the grand plea. The doctrine of Rome in regard to the vital article of a sinner's justification is the very same.

But any investigation into the actual details revealed that the ladders themselves were not equal—that to be a member of the “black race” in America had specific, quantifiable consequences. Not only did poor blacks tend to be much less likely to advance up their ladder, but those who did stood a much greater likelihood of tumbling back. That was because the middle-class rung of the black ladder lacked the financial stability enjoyed by the white ladder. Whites in the middle class often brought with them generational wealth—the home of a deceased parent, a modest inheritance, a gift from a favorite uncle. Blacks in the middle class often brought with them generational debt—an incarcerated father, an evicted niece, a mother forced to take in her sister’s kids. And these conditions, themselves, could not be separated out from the specific injury of racism, one that was not addressed by simply moving up a rung.

If you sell your soul to get ahead it will cost more than you bargained for. When you earn your success and never take something for nothing, no one can lay claim to what’s rightfully yours. My biggest investors (parents & grandparents), now deceased, ask nothing of me. They are the only ones I owe for a debt I can never repay; but its the only kind that will ever be worth carrying.

Name/ First name: Madeline (mads, or maddy) Middle name: Marie Last name: Fractures --------------------------- Birth/ Age: 17 Date of birth: 9/13 Date of death: none Place of birth: West Place of death: none ---------------------------- Romantic and social/ Gender: Girl Sexuality: heterosexual Friends: 3 Boyfriend/ Girlfriend: none Crush: none ---------------------------- Personality/ Likes:hunting, reading, drawing, knife throwing, music, fighting Dislikes: none can think of Disorders: PTSD (explained in history) Personality: Strong, has had a rough life, may seem stuck up at times, is close to her 3 friends as she can be because she is afraid to loose them if they see her violent side. She has this side because of what happened when she and her twin brother were small. ---------------------------- History/ History: was born in west katos, and lost parents and older brothers when she was five, only she and her twin survived. Was on the streets for one year with her brother before he was found while he was looking for food. They were reunited at the age of 7 one year later. He was living at the palace with a noble family, she was allowed to return with him and stay, she soon became close friends with the secondborn boy Jacob (if this is'nt fine let me know). When she was 13 her brother was kidnapped by a group from the east, she soon discovered that they were the same group that killed their family.4 years later she is still looking. Now she works at the palace as a hunter, archivest, and guard, and does some art. Lore: ( Any lore behind your character?) ---------------------------- Appearance/ Description : Dark brown hari, Forest green eyes, and one scar on the left side of her face from her first fight. Picture: Hair: Dark Brown Eyes: kind of almond shaped but also round and are forest green Skin: lightly tan ---------------------------- Family/ Mother : Deceased Father: Deceased Husband/ Wife: None Sons/ Daughters/ Offspring : None ---------------------------- Other/ Living situation: Small cottage in woods with her 3 friends Money: not rich but not poor either Pets: A wolf named Alla (a-la) Job: Hunter, guard, and archivest Other Side: West