Elizabeth Grow is an editor and content writer for Love What Matters. A graduate of Utah State University, she now lives in Las Vegas with her husband and two dogs. Elizabeth loves sharing stories that raise awareness for neglected populations within our society, particularly the mentally ill. She loves music, any kind of DIY craft project, and a good movie.
“She was a wreck, but the nurse came in with the news it was time for us to pack up and go. I urged the doctor to keep us there. ‘Insurance won’t pay.’ I can still feel the wind from doctors running past me, responding to the ‘code black.’ It haunts me.”
“‘I promise when this pandemic is over, I’m going to let you ride in my truck.’ I told Lonnie we were 2 weeks away from moving, and we were so disappointed. As we were hurrying down the hallway, we heard the truck beep the horn, and I knew they could only be honking for Charles. All the neighbors had huge smiles on their faces and tears in their eyes.”
“It’s like meeting a movie star you’ve dreamed about. ‘Why aren’t we on a plane to see our son?’ Our flight was cancelled, causing us to miss the next two. We could miss our court date. We tried to prepare for the trauma looming ahead.”
“I flagged him down and begged him to get out of the car. He could barely talk. He didn’t make sense. What if he had made it onto the main road? I sat out on the back swing, contemplating what I would say to him. How would I say it? Would I leave? Would he ever change?”
“I froze and stared at him. It hurt to leave him. We were so close to having him forever. We returned home and waited. What we did not know was about a month after we came home, our second son was born.”
“‘There is not a man alive who is going to understand what it is you do.’ I wish my mother could have seen the man I’d been praying for, the man she said did not exist, show up. It wasn’t an accident.”
“She would forget simple, everyday tasks like school pick-up and turning the oven off. I did little to support or ease her recovery. The 13-year-old me had other priorities. The guilt will forever haunt me.”
“‘That’s it right there! That’s what I like to see.’ Me interacting as a human and not a police officer, is what the community wants to see. I hadn’t felt that much peace in a long time.”
“I wasn’t eating. Things that once made me happy no longer did. I erased all those years from my memory.”
“Scared to look, I took a deep breath and finally turned towards my husband. I screamed like I never had before, a scream so loud it still haunts me today. My husband was leaning towards me, blood pouring out of his ears. His once beautiful green eyes were now open and looking up, lifeless.”
