“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”
A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh
“Dewey”
I had a favorite cat growing up. I remember his soft fur, his pink nose, and his big round belly. He was there for me the only way a good cat can be. He snuggled, he purred, and he listened to every worry, wish, dream, and sorrow I had. He died five years ago. I miss him. Our pets hold a special place in our hearts. We take care of them, and in their own way, they take care of us. Losing them feels like a light gone out in the dark.
“Leah”
My best friend since kindergarten loved to read. We liked to run around outside, listen to Taylor Swift, and terrorize our middle school band playing french horn together. We shared our souls as we talked for a billion hours. Life happened and things changed. We all have those moments when things start falling apart. Sometimes, the little cracks become big ones. Other times, the whole damn thing shatters. I was fifteen and trying to figure out why my sister was in the hospital, why my parents couldn’t handle it, and why my best friend stopped hanging out with me. It hurts when they leave us wondering what went wrong. Sometimes, “best friends forever” doesn’t last.
“Grandpa”
My Grandpa Alan failed out of seminary but excelled in law school. He became a judge, he beat cancer twice, and then he retired in Hawaii. I remember he would get me snacks my mom wouldn’t let me have. I remember he liked to drink bourbon and smoke cigars. He raised my mom to be smart and fierce. He died seven years ago. Two years later, my Grandpa Dave died. My Grandpa Dave was a radiologist, he served in Vietnam, and he helped raise eight children in a loving home. I remember he liked seafood and was thrilled that I did too. He showed my dad how to be a good father. Both my parents lost their dad. Their heartbreak came in waves. The tears came and went, furiously at first, then steadier. At the end of the day, I was a granddaughter without a grandfather.
“Elsa”
There was a girl that died six years ago. She and I sat next to each other once a week in our home room. She was very quiet. I learned later that she was into drawing and playing the ukulele. I wish I had known her more. She deserved to be here today, but life is not fair. I cry, I scream, and I wait, but she isn’t coming back. The people we lose never really leave us though. They remain in our thoughts, our memories, and our prayers. We praise their kindness at funerals, we give them flowers to show how much we cared. By then, it’s too late.
“Abraham”
I remember falling in love for the first time. Crushes and dates flickered through my past, but this time was different. He was wickedly intelligent, gorgeous as hell, and kinder than anyone I knew. We watched movies, walked, drank wine, kissed, cooked together, danced in the rain, and fell asleep in each other’s arms. There were bad times too. But I don’t hold on to those memories, I only grew from them. The world hurt less with him at my side. Very simply, I loved him, and he broke my heart. I cried so hard I thought I might die. I screamed so loud but no one heard me. I punched a wall and broke my hand. And then I cried again. He left me a book I still haven’t read. He left me a coffee mug, but I don’t know where I put it. He left me, and I lost him. My memory fades and time threatens to take him away from me. I won’t ever truly forget him though. I hold on dearly to the small moments that were so joyful, I wouldn’t trade them for anything. Heartbreak comes in all shapes and sizes. This one was an arrow through my heart. The wound healed and it left a beautiful scar.
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The ManifestStation publishes content on various social media platforms many have sworn off. We do so for one reason: our understanding of the power of words. Our content is about what it means to be human, to be flawed, to be empathetic. In refusing to silence our writers on any platform, we also refuse to give in to those who would create an echo chamber of division, derision, and hate. Continue to follow us where you feel most comfortable, and we will continue to put the writing we believe in into the world.
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WRITING IN THE DARK and CIRCE CONSULTING present CRAFT SCHOOL
This creative collaboration between Jeannine Ouellette, Emily Rapp Black, and Gina Frangello—three established writers with extensive teaching experience—is for prose writers of all levels who want to deepen and accelerate their craft through dedicated effort with close reading of acclaimed published work, an array of live (virtual) cross-disciplinary instruction, visiting writers and editors, generative writing rooms, publishing talks, small work groups, and more.
Don’t delay, open enrollment for this year long program ends on January 6th, 2026.
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Check out their current online labs, and tell them we sent you!
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