Stories: Who We Have Lost


Story aboutDonovan Kittell

Donovan would say “call me,” but “call me” really meant video me.

I miss my daily video calls with you, babyboy. #forever31


Story aboutDonovan Kittell

I cannot fathom living this way anymore

One moment I am semi okay and then reality hits that Donovan died from Covid. He is never coming back. He was a young man — 31 years old. A healthy young man. (This happens multiple times a day)

I see posts and messages and news on the tv and hear it on the radio- ‘it’s just a cold’, ‘it only affects 1%’, ‘Covid isn’t real’, ‘you can’t make me wear a mask’, ‘masks don’t work’, ‘my body, my choice’, ‘go ahead and live in fear — I’m going to live my life’, ‘No I’m not going get poked, I don’t know what’s in it’ and so many more — it’s heartbreaking. All of it tears me apart.

Donovan was my first born. Donovan came into this world a month earlier then his due date. He looked like a little baby bird. Then, two weeks later he was my little Michelin baby. He was so very chunky and beautiful.

21 days after he received the Covid positive test result, I would have to make the most devastating, heart-wrenching decision. Turn off the ventilator, he is not going to get better. His skin turned grey the moment the air was stopped, 3 minutes later his heart stopped. No last breath — he took that alone in the hospital before they placed him on the ventilator.

I have been told that stopping the vent was the most precious gift I could have given my son. I find it difficult to feel this way. Is that selfish? Selfishly yearning to be able to have him alive even though he would have been brain dead, always needing machines to stay alive? He would be here and I would take care of him.

Heartbroken forever,
Donovan’s mom


Story aboutDad

99th year on earth.
Too bad, there was room for 2 digits only.


Story aboutTom Darnall

I flew yesterday for the first time without you. Going to see our daughter and grandchildren. As I took off and I’m gazing out the window, with a stranger sitting beside me, I was alone. You should have been beside me. I thought of all our travels to various countries together. Such beautiful memories. I’m planning to go traveling next year with our daughter. Sure wish it was all three of us, sigh. I miss you. 6 months, 1 week has passed …

Under the Bleachers

Story aboutRonnie Arrington

Under The Bleachers

He took me home one year to meet his family and to show me where he grew up.
We spent days and days exploring every corner of his childhood.
One afternoon we stopped by his old high school.
They’d closed it down years prior.

So of course we snuck in …

We explored room after room while he relived a hundred different memories. I loved watching his eyes light up as he spoke of a carefree youth, Friday night lights … and girls lol

As we walked out to what was once The Hornets football field, he pulled me under the bleachers … where we made out like a couple of teenagers.

A few years later while he was back home, he sent me a photograph of that same football field … and of the empty space where The Bleachers once stood.

They’d been torn down.

Up until then, I’d often wondered if that moment meant as much to him as it did me.

Clarification came in the form of that photo.

In some parallel universe, in some snippet of time, The Bleachers are still there.

And on a perfect summer afternoon, he and I are still together —
Listening to the wind blowing through the trees, the crickets chirping in the background, and the smell of freshly cut grass.

And he’s wrapping his arms around me and pulling me in for that kiss … under The Bleachers.

Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.

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