Words For Mom's Death

The first footsteps we've ever taken are the ones that have imprinted the inside of our mothers' stomachs. Mothers don't just give birth to us, they give us a life to live. Now, some might say mothers are supposed to give birth; it's a natural process that is their duty. It's physically straining to have a child, but it takes a true warrior to raise a child. It is often forgotten how much they continuously provide for us and how many sacrifices they make. My mother has been my inspiration, not because of her title as my mother but because she is the prime example of a what I call a hero.

Nancy Scheper-Hughes studies and observes the connections between the loss of infants and the mother’s ability to express maternal love in the shantytowns of Brazil in her article “Mother’s Love: Death without Weeping.” Studying documents, interviewing, and observing the everyday lives of mothers, were the fieldwork procedures she used to conduct her research. The results of her research provided evidence of two theoretical perspectives observed in the article, structuralism and materialism.

When I was a child, I dreamt about being a doctor helping others. I knew at the early age of 7 that I wanted to make a difference in others’ lives. After the death of my mother in 1999, I slowly changed my mind about what I wanted to do with my life. I told myself that I would do whatever it took to help bring justice for families that go through what I went through with the death of my mother. As I was going through college I realized that criminal justice wasn’t for me after working in the field. I sat there one day wondering what I would do next and I realized I have a passion for helping others; and I love babies, so why not use that to my advantage. That is how I ended up here at Southern Careers Institute pursuing a career in the

have the words to describe how sorry I am for the impact of this loss and how much the

In Saidiya Hartman’s, Lose Your Mother the question is expanded and complicated through out the text. Saidiya begins her search for identity when she was a child, as she would pretend John Hartman was her father because of the same last name. This evidently ended up becoming a life long journey of a self-made identity. Which Saidiya states, “Saidiya liberated me from parental disapproval and pruned the bourgeois branches of my genealogy.” (Pg.8) Identity can be both found and created with even a mix of both as seen with Saidiya.

It has taken me a couple of days to understand the full weight of your letter. I am deeply sorry for the loss of your beloved Father. I cannot fathom the pain you and your family have endured.

Please accept my condolences. I'm saddened by the loss of your husband sister’s sudden death. I can’t imagine how distressing it is for your spouse and family. I pray that serenity is placed upon your family and may God be the strength while dealing with this devastating loss.

Ben learned on his “mother’s” deathbed that she was not his biological mother, and he was in fact smuggled out of Nazi Germany and into Spain as a one year old weeks before the war began by parents, who wanted to ensure his safety and who expected to escape themselves soon after. What is your take on this situation? Would you have liked to know sooner that you were adopted rather than find out that your mother who is on her death bed is actually your adopted mother? Would you rather not know the truth? Would you be upset with your “mother” who is on her deathbed?

Nancy Scheper-Hughes studies and observes the connection between the loss of infants and the mother’s ability to express maternal love in her article “Mother’s Love: Death without Weeping”. Scheper-Hughes travels back to the shantytowns of Brazil as a Peace Corps volunteer and a community development/health worker.

Becoming a mother does not come with a mother manual or guide. How a mother should behave when a child dies is socially constructed. In the article by Nancy Scheper-Hughes called, Mother’s Love: Death without Weeping,” it discussed how the mothers of the town of Alto handle the death of their child. Alto is a poor underdeveloped shantytown. The women of Alto work for very little wages and they cannot bring their children to work with then. The babies are left all alone and sometimes die.

I can still remember vividly the day my mother passed away. My mother passed away at a critical point in my life when I was seventeen years old from a short term illness. She was sick for a week and I remember thinking this could be serious, however, my mother declined to go to the hospital because of the distance and financial hardship. I had loss my father when I was three years old, so my mother was a single mother. I have step sisters and brother, but I was not particularly close to them. Losing my mother was a defining moment in my life for it changed my life irrevocably. I was devastated, but I had to become strong, proactive and it spurred me to choose a new career path.

I clearly remember the day I found out about my granddad's passing. I was at school. It was a normal, joyful day. My dad was planning on picking me up, but instead my friend's mom picked me up. He would not tell me why, but I did not think much of it. I remember the car ride to my house. My friend's mom would not tell me why she was driving me home; all she told me was, "Just know, Ryan, that we will be here for you no matter

Now I can say that I had never understood others suffering from a bad loss of a dear person.  I would hate to hear that anybody died. When this happened to me, when my dear mother died, I started to understand all those people who lost someone they loved. There are perhaps no proper words to describe this pain, This intolerable pain which tears you apart, which is like a stone on your heart, and which make tears run down your face with each moment spent with the dear person who passed away. Time is unlikely to pass so fast this hurt, no matter what others claim.

No one would ever imagine that a doorbell ringing would be the worst thing to hear. In my family, a doorbell rang that would change the course of my life forever. My family has never been one of stability. One might say I came from a ‘broken’ family. My parents tried to combine two families into one, but unfortunately things did not work out. My mothers’ first children would not accept my father, for he brought a lot of negativity. My mother was not perfect either; her previous marriage fell apart and she was clinically depressed. Just in this small description of my family, I would have to say we are very low on the strong scale, putting us at crisis prone equaling a one. With this in mind, one could see adding a crisis into this mess

Any women can be a mother but it takes someone special to be a mother. Having someone in your life who means so much to you is a blessing. My Mom, Fatima was born on June 4, 1973. Moving to her appearance, I could say that the way she acts says a lot about her personality. She is the kind of person that is interesting to listen. Every time I listen to her, I learn something new. The moment she had me in her life was also a blessing for her. Im her third daughter. She is someone who cheers me up while I’m feeling sad. Without her, I wouldn’t be who I am today. Her smile is the only thing that will make me happy throughout the day. Her guiding hand on my shoulder will remain forever. Ever since her childhood, my mom was taught that