The screech of brakes momentarily stopped Sandra's heart. Instinctively, as only a mother can intuit, she knew something awful had happened to Warren. Letting slip the dish cloth from her shaking hands, not caring anymore about the chore, Sandra sprinted out of the kitchen. Her heart once more stopped for five long seconds when she saw the open front door. “Dad,” she called to her father, “where's Warren? Warren!” she yelled for her six-year-old son. He was mildly autistic and tended to wander off if unsupervised, which was hardly ever, but this afternoon she had left Warren in the care of her septuagenarian father, assuming he would be safe. Before she reached the door, her father said, “He's in the garden, Sandra. But don't worry; the gate's closed, dear.” Sandra nearly stumbled upon sighting the open gate which led straight to the busy road that ran in front of their modest two-bedroom council home. Warren was nowhere in sight. Behind her, Gavin stepped out of the house to follow his daughter. The old man was shocked to see the wide-open front gate. “Sandra,” he called out, “did you find Warren?” The old man was now beyond panic; not seeing Warren in the yard where he had last left him caused Gavin's breathing to increase with the onset of heart palpitations. “I'm checking the road, Dad,” Sandra yelled as she stepped out into the street. Her worst fears were realised when she saw her son slowly rise to his feet, mere meters away from the front bumper of a stationary panel van. A crowd had surrounded the scene. “Dear God!” Sandra gasped upon spotting the blood pouring from a deep gash on Warren's forehead. His left arm was bent at an unnatural angle, clearly broken. With a heartrending scream Sandra ran to Warren, reaching him just as he tumbled back to the ground. “Mama. Van bump Warren,” he said before passing out. “Ma'am, ma'am. Please, let me put him in my van to take him to hospital,” someone said to a distraught Sandra. She looked up at the stranger, her brain making the connection that this was the driver who had knocked her son over. Before Sandra could fling recriminations and curses at him, he said, “He came out of nowhere, I swear!” Picking Warren up gingerly, Sandra said curtly, “Take us to the closest hospital,” not trusting herself to say anything more. Sandra felt she had buried her heart with her little boy. She stared at a framed photograph of Warren, tears streaming copiously down her cheeks. “How can I go on without you? You were the love of my life, Warren, my whole world,” she sobbed on the third night after his interment. Minutes later she fell asleep, only to wake to a warm glow in her room. “Mommy, I'm here, always. God loved me so much He wanted me with Him, but He told me my spirit will be with you forever.” Sandra stared in disbelief at the vision, convinced that she was dreaming. But then she felt Warren's small, soft, baby hand wiping away her tears, and with his touch, a profound sense of calm descended upon her. “Be happy for me, Mommy. I am whole now,” Warren said, smiling that special smile of his. He embraced Sandra in a comforting hug before slowly vanishing from her arms. As if her beloved, departed son's touch had healed her broken heart, Sandra's tears welled up anew. This time, they were ones of gratitude for the merciful miracle she had been granted. Six months later, Sandra sat beside Warren's grave, holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers she had lovingly created. Sandra gently replaced the wilted flowers in the graveside vase with the fresh arrangement. “Hi, beautiful boy,” she greeted Warren. “I feel your presence nearly all the time; I know you're no longer in pain. I've got news for you,” she added with a smile. “I'm getting married next week, and I'm pregnant. You were my special gift, Warren, and this new baby will learn all about you. I promise.” Sandra left the cemetery with dry eyes, her heart overflowing with immeasurable love and peace. Image: Courtesy of Nancy Herrendoerff

Grace moved from England to Montreal as a war bride in 1945 where she raised her 4 children. Melanie was the youngest daughter of 5. Melanie's oldest sister died during the Blitz of London. Melanie was given a diary when she was 8 years old. Every night before bed she wrote in her diary and she turned to it as if it were her best friend. Melanie describes in detail what life was like for her. When she was 17 years old she boarded a plane with her mother to return to Lullington Road in Dagenham England to visit her Gran and Grandad. This is where she met Tony, the boy next door. A boy Grace did not approve of. Melanie, quickly fell in love with Tony and by age 19 they were married. Tony and Melanie moved to Canada to start a family. They had a son and twin daughters. Melanie was diagnosed with breast cancer that spread to her brain and she passed away in 1999. She left behind a son of 16 and twin daughters aged 13. I am Melanie's youngest daughter. She had written nightly diary entries until she died. During the pandemic I began to read the diaries and the trauma of such profound loss spilled out of the pages and into my lap. Life's bitter grasp of grief that had been clenched around my throat after her passing began to loosen and I discovered who my mother was. I discovered the love story between my parents and the reason why my father never recovered when she died. How was he truly to live without her? During the pandemic I held the weight of her diaries on my lap like a thousand pounds of brick and decided it was time to heal from the trauma that had ruled my life! I created a blog and through the pandemic I was reunited with my mother who left me behind nearly 25 years ago.

April second 2020, Bryan, my beautiful boy, lost his fight with addiction by an accidental overdose. I lived through those five days of him in CCU, sitting every day at his bedside, but I still have a hard time grasping that it is real. Somewhere in the back of my head I know it happened, but I won't accept all of it. If I do, I will surely fall off the face of the earth. The autopsy would determine the actual cause of death was fentanyl intoxication. I wasn't there when Bryan overdosed. I was on vacation, and I am learning to forgive myself for going and that somehow if I was home, this wouldn't have happened. On that Friday, Bryan had gone to the park with his sister, brother, sister-in-law, and his nephew. They would recall that Bryan was in a great mood, playing with Nolan and running around. They said he was happy. But that's what's hard about anxiety and depression. People can't see what's in the inside and addicts are good at hiding their addiction. They were all to go bowling that night, but at the last minute, Bryan decided to stay back at the house. He told them all to have a good time. He was going to watch TV and go to bed early. They returned three hours later. The lights were all on. They comment to each other that it was weird that Bryan had left all the lights on. Even stranger was the fact that the front door was locked. Bre went downstairs to turn off the lights and when she turned to go upstairs, she heard Justin screaming. “Call 911! Call 911!” Bryan was slumped over on his bed, face down, with one foot on the floor. He was pale and had blood coming from his nose. There was vomit on the bed where he laid. “I knew he was gone when I was pounding on his chest,” Justin would later tell me when recounting how he gave him CPR until EMS showed up. When EMS arrived, they administered two doses of Narcan. They were able to restart his heart and get a faint pulse. He was rushed to the hospital where he was put on life support. The day that Bryan was brought in, the doctor told us that in his opinion, Bryan was brain dead, but he needed to run a series of tests to confirm his prognosis. For twenty-four hours, Bryan was put into cold therapy. This would allow his brain and body to heal at a faster rate. After forty-eight hours, they began to warm him and run tests. Bryan failed the response test. This meant even though he wasn't on any pain medications, he didn't respond to pain, light, or breathing stimuli. He also failed the apnea test, which was, when taken off the ventilator, he could not breathe on his own or keep his blood pressure up. Then they performed an EGG and CAT scan. He had slight brain activity and blood flow to the brain. Unfortunately, the part of the brain that regulates breathing, swallowing, blinking, basically anything that would allow Bryan to function, was completely dead from being without oxygen too long. The part that was receiving blood flow was memory, and was nothing that would matter for Bryan to come back to us. The doctors could not legally declare him brain dead and call a time of death. Wednesday morning, Bryan's kidneys shut down, he developed pneumonia in his right lung, and he could no longer maintain oxygen saturation above eighty percent. Gift of Life deemed him unable to donate. So at 2:45 p.m., I made a phone call and as a family we decided to end Bryan's suffering. I couldn't see through the tears, and I felt suffocated with my mask on. I rip off my mask and take his limp, swollen hand and rub it all over my face. I fold down the blanket and pull his gown over to the side and place my cheek against his chest and breath him in. Under all the antiseptic hospital smells, I can recognize my child's scent. It's a strong, warm, sweet musky smell, and I inhale it as if it is a life source to me. It actually is. At three p.m., the doctor came in and explained what was going to happen. I listened to every word, nodding as she spoke, but inside I am screaming, Don't let this be happening! She turned off all medications. His vitals started slowing down within seconds. Oh God he's really dying! I laid my head on his chest to hear his heartbeat for the very last time. The respiratory doctor announced that she was turning off his ventilator. No, don't leave me! But Bryan did leave me at 3:45pm that day. Every sound, every smell, every second of that afternoon is forever etched into my memory. Goodbye, my Beautiful Boy. I love you and I'll see you when I see you.  

It wasn't just a dark rose, it was the life of innocence, as each petal she clenched, fell to the ground. It was a life of hope, Hope that one day, her love might be enough. It wasn't just a dark rose, it was a broken heart, aching from the countless lies told, an aching heart, wondering how he could be so cold. It wasn't just a dark rose, as the bloody knife clattered on the ground, and the lovely red petals were engulfed in her blood. It really wasn't just a dark rose. It was her pain, it was her guilt, It was her suffering, But whilst she lived, a dark rose a day, and when she cried, she plucked a petal away. It wasn't just the dark roses, neither was it the pain when the last thing on her mind was his face, when the door closes. But all it was, was the love, of a no longer beating heart. A heart filled with innocence, and love for another, who without a doubt, is right now, With another. -BY RUTHIE DE GREAT ON THIS DAY-11/03/2021 NOTE FROM THE POET- I hope you Guys like the poem! tell me what you think about it in the comments!

Coronavirus - this tiny cell, invisible even to our eyes, has changed the whole world. In the last days of 2019, an unknown disease that spread in the chinese city of Wuhan shook the world. Scientists named the illness, which soon covered the earth, Covid - 19. A new sort belonging to the family of coronaviruses are still harming humans. To date, many people have died from the new coronavirus. It's worth noting that the Virus is spreading rapidly among the poor and migrants, so they have a high mortality rate. The borders are closed to prevent the interstate spread of Covid - 19. Local and international flights, cars and trains are suspended. As a result, the tourism industry has suffered greatly. The activities of schools, universities and private business organisations have been stopped. The economy suffered and many factories go bankrupt. In many countries it is forbidden to go out on the streets without a purpose. Personally, I'm trying not to go outside, nevertheless, once I had to go external. Of course, I went out wearing a mask, sanitary gloves and goggles. Life in a crowded and robustious city seemed to come to a standstill. There were almost no people on the street which were going anywhere in a hurry. That day, as I walked the empty streets, I felt that time I miss which the crowded streets, the noises of cars, the smell of delicious meals, and, of course , my beloved place - the clothing store. In my opinion, the Covid - 19 has its advantages, namely it brings us not only illness but also solidarity and patience. As we are struggling with the virus, I see people getting spiritually closer to each other. It's a great life lesson for me. In addition, science and technology are evolving because of the coronavirus. I think everyone has come up with a cure for at least one virus and is able to use it in their lives. Virus experts are preparing vaccines against Covid - 19. I hope they will help us get rid of the virus. However, we mustn't rely on a vaccine that is unknown when it will be ready. I have to say that no matter how much we thank the doctors, it's not enough. Because they are caring for the sick, even if they are infected with the virus. We always pray for them. I know we conquer these days, and I'm sure we'll have some great days ahead of us. We need to unite and show that we are stronger than the virus. " I don't know medicine, how do I fight the it ? " you may be said. Nonetheless, don't rush, as it is up to you get rid of the virus. This is the simple. You conform to rules of quarantine, don't forget the mask when you go out and the most significant rule STAY HOME. This is the simple things the most profitable method for the virus spreading. We should not be afraid to infect the virus, but we mustn't fear to infect our loved ones. Don't let our friends get in trouble due to us. It'sno exaggeration to say that Covid - 19 is a mirror for us. I think everyone, a representative of every industry, has seen their shortcomings and will try to correct them and be better than before in the future. I want to tell you which is about what I'm doing during the quarantine. I think this is interesting to you. I use my free time to take online Ielts classes. I'm studying at home and making friends with humans from different countries. I will take the Ielts exam soon , you wish me and my friends the best of luck. In addition, I'm reading a lot of fiction books because of quarantine. I comprehend how precious my family is to me on account of the coronavirus. I really enjoy talking to them. I love them. Take care of your loved ones because they like you more than you can imagine. 😘😘😘

I look myself in the mirror, I can discern the decay of my face. There is no smile anymore. The stasis of my lips offers satisfactorily lust in my thoughts that torment my mind with Medieval methods. I touch my idol in the mirror and I hurt. I try to close his eyes, but I cannot. They stay open and still and they look morbidly. Chainsaws echo from the overlooked cemetery, tear into pieces mercilessly the marble crosses. What have I done to myself so he looks at me like this? Why my sharpened teeth do not appear on the glass surface with sole purpose to bite her? Sorrow hallowing my forehead with sorrow. Indestructible thorns jab more deeper in the flesh of my skull. Bloody tears sparkling in my hands' palms. If I scream I will die. If I die I will have to kill. If I kill I am obliged to leave. If I leave, I will return. God, why, the sorrows of people transmute into ebony coffins that are buried within my heart? If only I could soothe my consciousness for seven days… I feel something to choke me. My throat is asphyxiating while my glass idol laughs horrendously. I can't stand the howling. No, yell at me no more. Reigns powerful silence, and then spasms commence recalling me in my starting position, before abyssal darkness arrogates my senses. Maybe fate leads me in a deathly destiny, which in case it happens, will become the salvation which is the highest virtue for a tormented soul like mine. No, I don't murmur. The existing circumstances of life have tired me insurmountably, because as I try to open a way out to the future, it ricochets me to the past. Death is the physical continuation of life, and I will be delighted if it happens to the days of my youth, for the simplest reason, that I cannot avoid him. To speak the truth, I don't want to avoid him. I want desperately to remain alive and to feel whatever joy I can, but they don't let me. In which attempt I give or trying to be present, they find ways to chain me and isolate me. The only thing that will never succeed in accomplishing is to handcuff my mind. A free spirit clearly suffering, but in no way it can be imprisoned. A free spirit prefers death so not to lose innocence, insight, respect and prestige. I have thought many times while I stroll in the city, how life would continue if I committed suicide… For sure there will be consequences and repercussions to people who they love me , however they would continue to exist without me, and with the flow of time the rift of pain would heal in desired spots. The verb “die” does not fit here, so, reasonably I use the verb “suicide”. Suicide is not an act of cowardice as some falsely believe. Because nobody knows how much pain a single human has within his soul. Nobody knows the spiritual boundaries and the stamina in a daily routine that open wounds that cannot be healed. How many people we see daily that smile whilst inside them are literally devastated… How many people we see daily that seek a kind word, a velvet touch, an understanding breath, and the only thing that get is disdain… How many people daily we place of the beam of desperation without remorse…Here is a key word which provokes pathogenic causes with fatal results. Suicide as a meaning and as an act certainly is the ultimate hybris against God, though requires determination and courage to turn yourself against yourself and violently remove the coveted life in that way. How many of you have done this macabre thought at least once… In this theater of paradox we daily live, the incarnation of life to life seems like an unreachable dream. Loneliness, disappointment, sorrow, wrong choices, guilt, remorse, unemployment, compulsion, hatred, unfairy tax policies, lies, eradication, violation of human rights, greed, selfishness, stab democracy that all people worship. The rule of law which could be, turns into a cradle of powerful coldness where everything collapse upon the enormous steel walls of human separation. Undead people wander everywhere aimlessly. They stamp upon dead bodies, seeking comprehensible sunrays of justice and transparent water to wash away their sins. How would it seem to the violators of this planet, who have elevated the obedient lobotomy to a profitable enterprise, a universal peace, which it would dismiss forever the wars for interest and people would live happily? A universal peace will destroy forever the human funnel grinders of annihilation. Only by thinking of it, my heart shivers from hope and expectation. A universal peace would give meaning in words and prestige in actions of future generations in a planet which agonizes… The only thing that is needed is an incision of kindness into the hearts of men… An incision that will bring back long-forgotten feelings, good deeds, smiles, hope… Hope for a palatable future life. We need love to live, not pain. Tears drop from my eyes as my words breath on the paper. What I wish for, what I want is, my words breathe inside your psychic dreams…

How do you plan for this day? Personally, I carefully considered any plausible scenario that would require running. To ensure my time would last, I accounted for miscalculations, kept a running journal, and assumed my generously estimated steps would endure well into my elder years. Legend has it that people used to run to live. There are still those who believe this, but I find it preposterous! Knowing life diminishes with each allotted step, running is not meant to be superfluous. Humans can only sustain a certain amount of running before their life energy is depleted. Once that energy runs out, so does your life. I always imagined accidents or emergencies would inevitably require the use of a substantial number of steps. I built my life around these ideas, as I supposed others had done. I never anticipated an emergency of such monumental impact, however. Yet, here I was. Crouching low among the dusty crates, taking measured breaths to steady my mind and body, contemplating the expanse I must travel in order to survive. It was recently discovered that taking someone's life would transfer their life energy, including their remaining steps, to the murderer. Who discovered this? Terrorists? The government? Law enforcement? No one really knows. All we know is that once the word got out, some lunatics decided to see if it was true. There's also been talk of early deaths being the result of murder instead of depleting steps through running. It's nice to think that murder was once controlled only by powerful people, but now that maniacs can participate, it's complete mayhem! The estimated number of steps I have remaining should be enough to allow me to escape this knife-wielding psychopath. My eyes darted around, searching for the most efficient path. If I could just get to safety, I could maintain my life, albeit diminished. It was now or never. I tried to calculate how much life energy would remain after this sprint while simultaneously visualizing the steps I will take to get away. I took off running as silently as possible. I heard the heavy, long strides behind me. I knew this guy wouldn't run after me if I was his first kill. He wouldn't squander his steps unless he had killed before. His footsteps revealed that I was definitely his first, but he was relentless nonetheless. My path of liberation was running out. I searched for places to hide again, but that would require returning to my starting position. That would mean being trapped and a loss of life energy. I could push myself to run faster, but that would mean using up even more steps. I had a choice to make. Keep running and risk dying, or stop running and risk dying. This was not a choice I ever envisioned for myself. I ducked behind a wall of steel beams so I could make my decision. I knew I didn't have long, as I could hear his steps approaching. Then I saw the gleam of his knife reflected off a beam to my left. I knew I would have to flee. He would never give up the chance to prolong his life as long as I was within his grasp. My decision was made. I must run...run faster than I've ever run before...run more steps than I ever planned...run to an expedited death. Either way, my life energy would be drained. I had no idea at this point how much of my life would remain. As I sprinted, I began to drift further into the recesses of my mind, recalling each moment I had lived. I was no longer aware of the distance between me and my attacker, no longer aware of his footsteps or mine. Suddenly, I realize that I am no longer running; I feel as if I am floating; my steps have run out.

There are millions of unpredictable things in the world. But the one which I had found most unpredictable in my 18 years of life is “The Life” itself. Life is so unpredictable that you can't even tell that after next 10 seconds you will be reading this essay or not. It seems quite funny that no one in this world is ready for what next is going to happen with you? Are you ready? I don't think so, and even I'm not ready for what's going to happen next with me.   But, what we can do is “Be ready to accept the reality”; we can't deny the reality and live in the dreams.  We must be ready with a thought in our mind that is “I might not be ready for what is next? But I'm ready to give my 100% in any situation of my unpredictable life”.  Life is very simple but complicated to explain but still I try doing that, by explaining more in fewer words. Life is a game (Suppose any game which you like the most). It begins with the day you are born and ends on the day of your death. But, in those years while you were actually living, you did anything which can make you live even after your death? Seems quite confusing??  Let me help you, do you know William Shakespeare, Mother Teresa, Mahatma Gandhi, Bill Gates, Albert Einstein, Muhammad Ali and Silkworm? I guess you know all of them except the silkworm, right? We'll come on the silkworm later first let's discuss about the famous personalities we have mentioned above.  These all people were normal like us the only thing that made the difference is their thinking! They thought, they believed, they took action, and did something which was unbelievable, but it was the reality and it is the reality and we all accepted it! And in fact we initially never accepted it, see how unpredictable life is. We never believed we can talk through phones, we never thought we can have light; we never thought we (Indians) will be able to get independent and we never thought a million things but they happened.  And this is how the people who thought and did these things are still living even after death. They are remembered and that is what exactly I want to convey through this essay. We should do something to be getting remembered. Maybe not as big as they did but at least something to be got remembered, let's get back to the example of Silkworm. Simply I say it's born, live and then die, but in that period of time it gives the Silk and that silk is so precious that somehow it's remembered. You may not be able to be like the people mentioned above but at least you can do something even on a small scale like the silkworm to be remembered even after death.  You won't take your money when you will die; it's a waste in Heaven. This thing is a universal truth and predictable that you can't take money to the heaven, you'll go there empty hands. In the unpredictable life it is easy to move on a negative path. But very tough to move on positive path because (it's not predictable but in most cases) it doesn't give quick happiness, it might be filled with struggles and it might be having huge challenges. But, negative path is struggle less because it's not quite tough to become a bad person.   But still there's a way this unpredictable life can be lived with happily and that way is simply summed up in a single word i.e. Satisfaction. Even in the hardest times which came in your life because you couldn't predict it earlier you can still live with happiness if you are still satisfied and accepting the reality. Happiness is directly proportional to Satisfaction, the more you are satisfied, the more will be happy.  So, while summing up this essay about unpredictable life I would like to say three things. First, stay satisfied even in the hardest situations. Second, if you face any fall back then try to accept it, learn from it and improve as soon as possible. Third and the last… Try to do something to live even after death, in positive way.  And by doing all this you can handle all the situations of this unpredictable life.