Pre-Order LOVE today for twisted delights!

I can’t resist this hardcover book wrap–my name’s on the back!

Call it Love,” my tale of dual, desperate, disparate colonies choosing a unique defense against a sinister foe, will be out on March 17 in LOVE: A Dark Microfiction Anthology (Dark Drabbles Book #7) from Black Hare Press.

Twisted tales of love in tiny proportions: What miracles can one hundred debut to bestselling authors do with 100 words?

Pre-order today!

Lessons of Love and Change Fly In With a Baby Vulture

 “This is a very well written children’s book. I bought one for each of my great grand children. They all are enjoying it. The illustrations are great.”– The Children’s Book Review

Lessons about loss, transitions, and change from a baby vulture teach how love and friendship can grow even with someone completely different from yourself.

Victor the Vegetarian Vulture by Elizabeth Vansyckle

Once upon a time in the east Texas Piney country, there lived a ground squirrel named Pete. With the help of a baby vulture and a wise owl, Pete, busy at his job of gathering nuts, was about to learn new lessons in love and change.

Buy now!

About the author:

Elizabeth Vansyckle is a retired nurse who was a hospice nurse throughout her forty-year career. Raised in the Salvation Army as a young child, she learned the greatest person you can be is one of service. And, as an United States Army veteran, she found that being a hospice nurse made her the very best possible nurse in any setting.

Throughout her career she also was a surgical nurse and feels that the ability to ease a patient’s fears in the few minutes before surgery came from that place in hospice of holding the calm space and giving that sense of quiet and trust.

Elizabeth Vansyckle.jpg

Post #18 of the holiday blogroll for participants in Indie Authors Monthly.

When Someone You Love Is Dying

My father-in-law died a couple weeks ago, and I think we’re still not quite believing it.

The hospice, the funeral, the boxing up of stuff and all the paperwork make this an incontrovertible experience.

It’s all the other stuff that doesn’t make sense.

How could this person who used to laugh, love, think, and feel just no longer BE here? In our hearts, yes, but as someone to see and talk with in front of our eyes, no.

Well. I’m not actually going to tackle life and death today. There was just something I wanted to pass along.

Where I work, we’re big on nonverbals. Big. How you move, how you stand, and where you place your hands can all make a difference in your care of someone.

We also pay attention to tone. How you say something can be even more important than what you say, especially if the person you’re talking to is distracted or otherwise can’t focus on or hear the actual words.

It’s not always easy to think about these things when it’s happening to you.


This lovely light is from toobstock.

So when my husband was concerned that his father might not even know that his wife or any of his sons were there at his hospice bed, I said, “Put your hand on his hand. Talk to him as you normally would, and use reassuring words such as ‘You’re going to a good place,’ ‘It’s okay to let go,’ and most importantly, ‘I love you.’ Say it even if you think he doesn’t hear. He’ll feel it all the same.”

I don’t think I have any great insight into these matters. I just wanted everyone to feel comforted. And I’ve seen over and over again what the power of touch alone can do.

So they did. They each held his hand. They each spoke the words they wanted to say.

And he responded.

Although he was drifting further and further into what we hoped was a soothing fog and hadn’t opened his eyes, when each of the sons held his hand and said, “I love you,” he said, “I love you, too.”

And when his wife of 60 years bent over him to kiss him, he responded the way he had for those 60 years, with their very special kisses: Three in a row.

He died three days later without coming back out of his twilight sleep.

When they played Taps at his funeral, it seemed like the saddest song in the world, but I held on to that memory of those last goodbyes.


If you’d like, please share moments you’ve had with loved ones.