Descriptive Essay About My Funeral

“Tuesdays with Morrie” and “The Death of Ivan Ilych” both portray a character who is dealing with a serious terminal illness and advance knowledge of their deaths. One story is based on the realistic life of an American professor with the story’s characteristics tone from the 1990’s while the other is set during nineteenth century Russia. Even though Morrie Schwartz and Ivan Ilych both suffered from the illness, their dissimilar lifestyles and beliefs led to different perspective on facing death. One views the knowledge as a blessing and an opportunity to share his life experiences before making his final good-byes, the other agonizes in pain and begs for an

Choosing a funeral director has never been more convenient in Sydney. With your comfort in their mind, many are flexible enough to offer funeral services in neighboring areas aside from their respective locations. There are plenty of funeral directors that provide a wide range of services to cater to your needs and preferences; many specializing in a particular religious or cultural ceremony. Budget isn’t much of an issue as funeral directors would be happy to provide you with funeral quotes to help you make a decision what services to avail.

A funeral director can be a male or female who handles the care of the deceased from the time of death until burial. The person must attend college and receive a degree in mortuary science. A two year apprenticeship will be a learning business and directing a funeral. Funeral directing is beneficial and rewarding. A two year program is offered locally with duties including handling of remains, embalming, and funeral services (Lee).

There was more than enough room to travel around the rooms. Every room had extra space if the person was in a wheelchair, scooter, or had a walker. This extra room allowed accessibility to all individuals who visited the funeral home.

In the midst of undergoing a serious life-altering incident, one often experiences the feeling of a paradigm shift. It is amazing to see how our perspectives of the world shift when forced to reflect on what is truly important. Such is the way with death. Being near death causes a sharp realization of what is truly important in life--love of family and friends, faith in God, and making the world a better place to live in--and enables one to not merely accept this, but apply it to their life as well. All those typical, average daily worries and concerns about homework, professional careers, food, sleep, personal grooming, etc., while important and necessary in everyday life must seem unbelievably miniscule when the death has wiped ones

In this journal I learned that designing a funeral isn’t an easy task. From thinking where to do the visitation to where to have the burial, it all requires time and patience. Not to mention comparing prices to get the best deal while getting quality, and thinking what to put both on your tombstone and in your obituary section in the paper. In contrast to this assignment, I want to be cremated and have my ashes scattered in the Atlantic Ocean, specifically near Cuba.

My symbol that represents everything I want to be; is my grandmother Lena Knox. Who is the beginning of the Knox bloodline, and she is also a very strong willed determined individual. The three key points that I will touch on that makes her my symbol, are her adventurous courageous and powerful states of mind.

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

My brother is not just someone I share blood with but someone I can rely on and look up to. Patrick, my seventeen-year-old brother, has been by my side since I was a little baby. The earliest memories I have are of Patrick and I running around in our backyard laughing and playing. As he grew older, I began to look up to him. He was everything I aspired to be: intelligent, passionate, and athletic. Patrick always seemed to know what he wanted in life, and I admired how he chased down his goals. There were points in my life when I was extremely unmotivated, one time being when I was seven years old. Insecure and unsure, I did not believe in myself from a remarkably young age, and Patrick was there for me when no one else was. He made me

“Don't go near the graveyard after the sunset!” “Don't touch the branches of the tree!”

Recently, an extraordinary person offered me the perfect muse to energize my stagnant existence, and therefore, its paramount I have a chat with my mother, Whitney West. Immediately upon arriving at Whispering Breeze, her country estate, I’m escorted out to the veranda by François, her butler and since my mother sat alone, she requested I join her for lunch. While we enjoyed the repast, Lady Joséphine and Sir Bonaparte, my mother’s, two Doberman pincers, entertained us with an aggressive game of tug of war with a frayed piece of rope and within moments the rope snapped in half. At that point, Sir Bonaparte quickly ran off with his piece of the rope and a furious Lady Joséphine chased after him, demanding he relinquish it.

“Life sucks. I think most of you can agree with me there. Uncle Ernie is lucky that he got out while he could. Alright now, put away your dirty looks. You have to understand, this is my seventeenth funeral in the past 26 years of my life. Yeah, I love Uncle Ernie and what happened to him is devastating, but you have to admit, after your fifth funeral, these things get pretty repetitive. So, long story short, Ernie, I miss you and I’m glad your awful experience in life is over. Have a nice afterlife.” I walk away from the podium and sashay out the double doors of the Holy Place of God. Once the doors close, carbon dioxide releases from my mouth and my legs give out from under me. I’m the last one. The last of the Rollins-Williams family. The next funeral will most likely be my own. Who knows if it’ll be tomorrow or thirty years from now. All I can do is live my boring, non-existent life and wait for my time to come.

“Life sucks. I think all of you can agree with me there. Uncle Ernie is lucky that he got out while he could. Alright now, put away your dirty looks. You have to understand, this is my seventeenth funeral in the past 26 years of my life. Yeah, I love Uncle Ernie and what happened to him is devastating but you have to admit, after your fifth funeral, these things get really repetitive. So long story short, Ernie, I miss you and I’m glad your awful experience in life is over. Have a nice afterlife.” I walk away from the podium and sashay out the double doors of the Holy Place of God. Once the doors close, carbon dioxide releases from my mouth and my legs give out from under me. I’m the last one. The last of the Rollins-Williams family. The next funeral will probably be my own, who knows if it’ll be tomorrow or thirty years from now. All I can do is live my life and wait for my time to come.

I never thought I’d be here, didn’t know this was allowed honestly. The last time I was in this old church was a week ago...doesn’t seem that long to me but for everyone else I can only imagine how long it’s been. 7 little days in scheme of things doesn’t seem that important. 72 hours even more so, it passes in the blink of an eye for most...but for me those 72 hours felt like they would never end. I didn’t even know how long I was there at first, it was so dark...I can hear the piano being played, they’re playing my favorite song I and I can almost hear my mom’s tears hit the ground though the door. I’ve been standing in front of these doors for what seems like forever now waiting...just waiting. Waiting for my moment, I don't know when

When I arrive at the house my father was waiting on us to arrive at the house. When my brother pulled up he walked into the house to meet me and my father. My father embraces me and my brother as tight as on the other hand, he knew that losing a mother at a young age was tough to go through on your own. He told us that we were going to be all right considering she would be watching over us. As a Result, we went to the funeral home to identify my mother's body, yet we also prefer her to wear a wardrobe that she would like to wear to her funeral. We knew she didn’t like to wear dresses so we went and pick out a pink suit for her cause we knew that what she would have wanted to wear to her funeral. When we left from viewing my mother’s body we went to go find us something to wear to the funeral. The color we announce everyone to wear was black. When we finished finding us some clothing to wear to the funeral we went home. A week later we had my mother funeral at our church we attended. We knew she would have wanted her funeral to be at the church she attended. When the funeral was over everybody went to the mortuary where my mother was going to be hidden in. When they were putting my her body in the mortuary the only action I could take was to start crying cause I knew that it was going to be the last time