I am lying in bed listening to the radio at my boarding school as my roommate is getting dressed. As she walks out of the door she says, See you at breakfast don't be late. I'm about to get up when the early morning news comes on the radio, and I hear the announcer saying my parents' names. By the time my roommate arrives at breakfast, everyone has heard.
Michelle Doherty has almost come to the end of her trip home to Donegal for Christmas the day we talk. The former Xposé host and ­radio DJ, who still models, is in her sister's house. On the bed beside her is a pile of clothes that have been loaned for the pictures being taken for this piece. It's been a "weird" Christmas, she admits.
After my husband died suddenly at the age of 39, both my body and mind remained in a state of shock for years to come. It happened in 2018, when I was 34, and it has taken a long time for the cortisol levels in my body to come back down, and, in parallel, for the fog of grief to lift. It was an extraordinarily intense experience, and I really struggled, especially with work.
Our father's body lay on a plinth the color of gunmetal. He was covered by a simple white sheet up to his collarbone, above which his shaved head was supported by a stone headrest. Looking at him, it was as if his body had shrunk in tandem with his dissembling life. I shivered. The visitation room in Omega Funeral Home was as cold as a meat locker, while outside the rainy season had turned Lagos into a sauna.
"God gave us more time with my dad than we thought we would get," Sumrall said in a message posted on social media. "Dad was a fighter. I learned so much from him ... being a man of faith, grit, hard work, attitude, service and more."
Maura Derrane has been on our screens for three decades and has spent the last 14 co-hosting the 'Today' show with Dáithí Ó Sé - she talks to Kirsty Blake Knox about the programme's success and why Christmas is hard after losing her sister to cancer For many experiencing grief and loss, Christmas can be a challenging time. And that's something broadcaster Maura Derrane knows well.
Grief can make some people hole up indoors. But in Northampton, Massachusetts a walking bereavement group gathers outside once a week on warm days and chilly ones. Most join the group after a spouse has died, but some are there to remember a sibling, a parent or a child. Maureen Cahillane, 91, walked with a cane around a local park with about two dozen other people.
A government TD has revealed how his family has been plunged into the "most immense shock and grief" following the deaths of his uncle and first cousin within days of one another.
I read that you shouldn't let a tragedy define you, but I feel that Sarah's death is such a big part of me that I'm surprised there is no outer sign of it, no obvious mark of grief. I have been changed by it, but there is nothing to see. Outwardly we live our normal lives, but there is an inner sadness. People who do know are unfailingly kind and have helped more than they will ever know.
Heartbroken family of Longford businessman killed in workplace accident suffers second 'unimaginable' loss days later The heartbroken family of a high-flying businessman who died in a workplace accident last week have been dealt a second "unimaginable" blow with the loss of his father in almost as many days. Michael Carrigy passed away on Saturday afternoon less than two days after his son lost his life in a tragic accident at his coach hire firm, Carrigy's Coaches, outside Ballinalee, Co Longford on Thursday morning.
“The unimaginable has happened,” “My beautiful husband has been taken from us. The light of my life. I was the luckiest to be loved and adored by you Jamie. I love you endlessly, not just now, but eternally.”
When I first joined the Housing Authority back in the '80s, my dad insisted I sign up for early retirement. At the time, the extra contributions to my pension seemed expensive, but my dad assured me the investment was worthwhile. A lot could change between 55 and 62, he said, and being able to retire early would give me choices.
One of the last remaining fun things about the internet is getting to pass judgment on the goings-on in households that you would never hear about otherwise. On Reddit, for instance, there is a whole thriving sub for just this purpose called Am I the Asshole?, where people describe conflicts from their lives and ask strangers to adjudicate on them.
When someone we love dies we often yearn for the impossible: one more conversation. Maybe we want the opportunity to finally gain clarity about a difficult relationship or to say, I love you one last time to someone we cherish. While raising the dead is still out of reach more and more people are turning to generative AI tools such as Replika to conjure the essence of their loved ones and have those final conversations.
I was traveling with my family to scatter Mom's ashes at her childhood home and favorite places. We rented a car that had to be exchanged on the second day for one without iffy brakes. We were a four-hour drive away when I stopped in my tracks and asked my sister if she had gotten Mom's miniature travel urn out of the cup holder at my seat.
Because every phone call is constantly being graded and monitored by the quality control department, callers can get better results for themselves and for the representative by asking can you repeat that, please? this is an alert phrase. You can also say, Because this call is being rated for your quality of service, I want you to know, you are doing well. But I need to speak to your supervisor to resolve this.
In the afternoon we prayed at home together, then we went to the gurdwara in Southall and visited with some family nearby. We all had dinner together and put the children to bed ready for school the next day. Shortly after that, I saw the fire. I tried to go upstairs to help my family, but I lost consciousness. I don't know what happened after that. When I woke up, the whole house was on fire.
They had just talked the day before, Skyy Clark and his father having one of their usual conversations about life, basketball and whatever else popped into their minds. Early the next morning, around 6, Skyy got a call from one of his brothers. It was the sort of news no one can fully prepare for, no matter the circumstances, no matter how much one might have already considered the possibility of hearing those awful words. "Dad's gone."
Gene Daly sits up at the table with us as we talk about his parents' latest cookbook, The Daly Dish Air Fryer, and the whirlwind that has been the last five years of Gina and Karol's lives. Gene recently started playschool near their home in Co Meath, but he's home today, a bit under the weather, while his teenage siblings, Holly and Ben, are at school.
I was waiting in line to enter the church for the funeral. I couldn't believe he was even having one... A church funeral? The only times I ever remembered him going were Christmas Eve or Easter, but whatever-I shrugged it off. Why was I having these thoughts at a time like this? Why does it matter when he went to church?
Being here, I feel like I'm with my mum I feel like I'm losing her again, I want the council to help me keep all I have left of her, because without it, once the house is gone, I'll have nothing left.
Every day, around nine Australians end their lives; three-quarters of them are men. That is a shocking statistic. But nothing can prepare you for the shock when that statistic includes someone you love. One day in mid-2013, my dad became one of the nine. After doing a heroic job bringing up five kids and helping raise a growing collection of grandkids, he killed himself in the garage of his rented Kirrawee home. It broke me in ways I am still dealing with.
