Creative Writing: Eulogy For Friend

The concept and belief of honor in the Columbian culture in Chronicle of a Death Foretold is one of the deciding aspects of the character's actions, motives, and beliefs. Nobody questions the actions taken to preserve ones honor because it is such an important moral trait that one must cherish. In this society a man or woman without honor is an outcast to the community and to the culture. In Chronicle of a Death Foretold two twin brothers are burdened with defending this tradition of honor. The brothers find out that their sister has lost her virginity before marriage and she claims that Santiago Nasar is to blame. To regain the honor of their sister, and their family the brothers believe it is their duty to kill Santiago Nasar. Could such

Last summer, I had the magnificent privlege of chatting with Barbara Niven prior to the premiere of the Hallmark original series, Chesapeake Shores.  Our friendship began a few years ago during the airing of Cedar Cove, and with each passing year, I find myself more in awe and appreciative of this benevolent soul. There is something uniquely vibrant and genuine about Barbara that makes her an instant fan favovrite and one of the truly inspiring women in the world today. I have been blessed yet again to speak with this remarkable gentlemwoman this year!

Connie felt not worthy of her mother, she felt she was less than her sister, yet she knew she was better than her sister June. Connie’s mother spoke about June so positive and so negatively about Connie, still, Connie knew she was prettier and better than June. Connie needed the reassurance even if it was from herself. “She was locked inside it the way she was locked inside this house.” Additionally, Connie feels locked inside herself, she is locked in her comfort zone, where it was fun and games. Connie soon realizing that this Friend guy is no fun but scary games. She wanted to stay at home where that other guy treated her, where she knew she was better than June, where her mother and father could help her. Now, there was no help no light in the day time, all she saw was darkness and evil in Friend’s eyes.

Elliot is in his room, sitting at his desk reading over a few brochures for various colleges.

Four years ago, I ambled over to our shared table after the seventh grade health teacher dispassionately declared our names and gestured towards the third table in the center row of his classroom. Neither of us could have imagined that action would excite a companionship defining what I consider to be the most transformative era of my life, and a time which likely holds a similar potency for you. I did not know you, but I knew of you and had spent the semester admiring your sweaters adorned with witty phrases and images from afar, and I know you would say the same about my colorful mismatched socks. We were both rather shy, but you kept pushing for a bond despite my taciturn demeanor and asocial tendencies— for that I am eternally grateful.

From day one I always knew you weren't like the rest and there was much more beneath your surface. You have more to offer in every single aspect of your life and everyone and anyone who knows you are endlessly inspired by just being in your presence. I often find myself wondering why it has been so hard for me to move on and I realized that unique things are special because they cannot be replicated, but since they cannot be replicated unique things don't satisfy like the last. You are my last Abby. Time is going to pass and you will find yourself so happy with someone else and create all new memories with them and I couldn't be happier for you. Who knew that love could be one of the cruelest things to happen to a person, but I have become my own worst enemy for my actions. Some of my best memories are the ones with you in it. I could sit here and write to you all day, but there is no amount of time or embarrassment I could save you and I cannot begin to express how deeply sorry I am for every single second I have made you waste. I'd love to be writing a different story for us, but I just wanted to say how grateful I am for

I sympathize with Jack because growing up his father beat him, he did not have very many friends, and with the way his siblings treated him, he was an only child. Jack’s father, Dwight, was no real father. He beat him, stole his money, often put Jack down, and he seemed bi-polar. One day he would be teaching Jack how to fight and fend for himself, and the next day he would steal Jack’s paper route money and beat Jack. Jack’s father had no method to his madness. Some small things would make him explode. Sometimes, he was a ticking bomb with a fuse that was as long as a mile and other days the fuse was the size of an inch. He was unpredictable as a father, if you could even call him that. I would not wish that kind of father on my worst enemy.

I would first like to thank you all, friends and family alike for joining us here today. Our friend, Herman W. Mudgett, who most people knew as H.H. Holmes; was my closest friend for most of my life. In our early years of childhood he was a crazy kid, though he always had nice things to say about people. He was so creative and with his ingenuity he never ceased to amaze everyone with his creations. His all time goal in life was to build something everyone could enjoy at The chicago’s world fair, but in the early stages of his life that didn't seem plausible. As well as we all knew him, that wasn't going to stop him. He was an insurance policy salesman and he could sell anyone, anything. So with that chapter of his life going on, besides the

Today was funeral day. My mom’s funeral. It was a dark October thursday, the clouds were brewing a storm. A slight breeze disturbed my neck. My uncomfortable suit sleeves bellowed in the cold breeze.. I hadn’t felt any emotions since the day of her death, which was weeks ago, almost as if my emotion is grey. It was warm then, as my mind was too. Nowadays, up until today, my mind has been a dark fog, as if my mind was released into the sky, darkening everyone’s day, arriving at my mom’s funeral or just to cuddle up with their friends and family in front of a warm crackling fire, telling the stories of their childhood and how times were better. Not me, my dad usually ignored me and he only worked on managing my mom’s fortune. Yeah. My mom’s

this is both a eulogy for the demise of his grandmother and a celebration of the struggles she went through. I feel that he wants the reader to understand the significance of his grandmother. For example, the time he watched his grandmother pray. The writer shows that being a part of something is very important. The writer shows that although there may be tragedy in the end he could be happy about what his grandmother and people stood

It is amazing how many things we take for granted. We make plans for the day, and don't think twice about how those plans can be taken away in the blink of an eye. I never thought much about it myself, until I was faced with the shock, and undeniable truth of my cousin's death. I don't think anyone really thinks about tragedy until they are actually faced with shocking news.

Supporting a friend who has recently suffered the loss of a loved one can be very challenging at first. It’s often difficult to know what to say and do, and many decide to do nothing for that reason.

Wow! Summer took a really big risk at being friends with August. She was very brave because me being a seventh grader it would be very challenging to be friends with someone like him. I would be afraid about what people would think of it. Summer and all the other students who were friends and remained friends with August were very outgoing and brave.

now. The only thing I can do now is pray and hope. To pray that I will

I knew my wife, Phuong Nguyen when I had been living in Boston, Massachusetts through an introduction of her father and his friend who I lived with.