Elisabeth Kubler Ross : On Death And Dying

THIS WRITNG IS NOT MINE. I GOT IT FROM INTERNET

Elisabeth Kubler Ross : On Death And Dying

This is the world-famous best-seller by the woman who popularized the field of thanatology as a subject for general social commentary. Written in plain language that anyone can understand, this important book can help families understand what's going on as death of a loved one draws near. This was Elisabeth Kübler-Ross' first book on the topic. It is still considered a classic. It is required reading in many academic settings, including medical and nursing schools, theological seminaries, and popular psychology courses.

The book introduced the author's seminal "stages of dying" or "stages of grief" model which is still widely quoted. According the Kübler-Ross model, there are five stages that a dying person goes through when they are told that they have a terminal illness. The five stages go in progression through denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. This model has been widely adopted by other authors and applied to many other situations where someone suffers a loss or change in social identity. The model is often used in bereavement work. Not all workers in the field agree with th Kübler-Ross model, and some critics feel the stages are too rigid. Other authors, such as John Bowlby, developed models with different numbers of stages. Regardless of whether you feel the stages are absolute, the book is a "must read" for anyone seriously interested in death and dying issues.

real uncanny story

When I was a child an uncanny story happened. I remember very well, actually all in my family remember it.
We were all on the beach in a sunny morning in our summer’s holidays. My parents were with their friends and all children playing together in the sea, having a great time.
Suddenly my father realized that the little finger ring fell off from his finger. He knew the ring was too big for his little finger, but it was the only finger he could wear it because the ring was too small for him. The ring was from his mother, she died when my father was seven months old and he never knew his mother.
The ring fell on the sand and in front of all people there, it disappeared. They tried to take it inmediatly sliding theirs fingers into the sand, but it wasn't there.
My father was very sad and gloomy.
The summer ended and we came back to the city.
Next summer my parents and their friends were on the beach having a good conversation and suddenly Mrs Serra noticed something with her toe. Could you imagine? Yes, the ring.
Believe it or not that was what it happened.

Solduga (Cont)

Solduga pictures

Solduga

Once upon a time there was a little town called Solduga. It was just in a ledge of a craggy cliff of one beautiful mountain in the Catalonian Pyrenees. Solduga was in the mountain range of Boumort, situated in a very high place, and for that reason it had a beautiful view over the extensive valley that was on his feet.
One side of Solduga, the back, was the mountain, just touching the houses. In fact some of those houses had the mountain as one wall. The mountain was of tough stone with some holes that made natural caverns. A wall that made the town accessible only by the sides, and completely protected against everything you could think from the back.
The few families who lived there were very hard workers and their daily tasks made them busy all day. They were concerned with tilling, taking care of theirs cows, lambs, goats and farmyard animals. They were really busy. And day after day their busy lives were going well. No big problems, a peaceful life…
Winter was very hard there because the single road was a track full of snow and usually it had to be cut from the beginning to the end in each cold winter, and obviously nobody went there.
One beautiful day at the end of autumn, everybody was preparing for the winter. They were very busy trying to get a lot of meat when a couple of hunters arrived there. Children were very happy because nobody had been there for a long time and they ran into them, saying hello and asking them many things. But the hunters didn’t answer them. The hunters looked into themselves, and their faces were obscure, gloomy and serious.
Somebody called the children “boys, come back to home! Don’t bother the visitors! Come on!”
Pau, was a curious boy who didn’t take the parents advice: he wanted to play, and he followed the men. But he did it hidden; he didn’t want to have problems with elders.
One of the hunters talked:
· Fred, let me give a glance around here. I will find the best place to put the tent. Meanwhile, would you mind taking water from the fountain we saw at the entry of Solduga?
· Sure. Harry, what about putting the tent in one of those caverns
· That could be a good idea

Pau was so happy! New people to talk with. He was anxious to make contact with them.
Pau followed all movements they did and when they were sitting he leaved his hiding place and said hello to the men.

But the men didn’t answer. They didn’t even look at him. Pau started to feel very strange, very uncomfortable, but he couldn’t stop walking towards them. He thought “what a bad-mannered couple…Why are they acting as if I didn’t exist…”

And when he was just in front of them he realized it: he didn’t exist. Pau was there, yelling in front of the two men trying to touch them to talk to them, to communicate. But there was no way no communication was possible between them, because they didn’t live in the same world. In that moment Pau realized he was dead as everyone in town

Suddenly Fred skipped about when Pau touched him.
· Harry, sad to his partner, I have feeling somebody touching me.
· Fred, please don’t do that to me. I’m feeling too much scared to bear your fear, please.

bitterness

Hi there!
Here I am ready to write a fantastic essay about …no idea
My first thing, I mean the first essay I wrote in this Blog had the purpose to get big reactions from everybody, but I recognize I didn’t like what happened. The reactions were criticizing my way of life, and excuse me, but this is not your business at all, you can criticize my essay but you are nobody to criticize me in my nose without asking you! No way!
The second one was a little thing without significance, and the third was very professional because I got information about war and I did it seriously. At least I did it more o less successfully
Then when the topic was “disasters” I tried to do it funny! But is not easy to do a funny thing in a foreign language…indeed it is always difficult to write funny things, but I don’t give up at all!
A friend of mine, professional writer, told me to do a thing like “mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios” ="women on the verge of a nervous breakdown", and I told her that I had tried it in my first essay and it didn’t work….Or did it, my friends???
Besides it’s easier to do an essay like this…with bitterness.
Are you ready to understand that I can write about flying ants without having problems with insects?