Eulogy For Charles Gordon

Lying in bed after a sleepless night, I had to find my inner strength and courage to overcome the sadness that would surely plague this day. What once belonged to him, and still holding the distinct scent of his cologne, I took the freshly pressed suit from the closet and drove to the church in a fog. It was a day that I had wished would never come. Holding the paper tight in my hand, I could feel my palms getting sweaty and my pulse starting to race. A still silence flowed through the room as I stepped up to the podium and took a minute to glance at all the somber people whose lives he touched. It was time to say goodbye to grandpa. Holding back tears and with my voice cracking, I started to read aloud the eulogy I had written last night:

Today Charles passed away. It was a sudden death while he was sleeping. We had no idea this was going to happen. We think it's because of all the exhaustion and dehydration he had. It's all my fault. I made him go on this trip. I could have stayed back home, I didn't need to come. I hate myself now. We should have taken it slower and didn't move so fast at a time. We should have packed more water so he could drink it. I can't move on. I've been sitting here the whole time not knowing what to do with myself. I lost my son.

Nothing could prepare me for the news I received six years ago about the unexpected death of my close friend Joey. I will never forget the night he died. How I had been with him just minutes before, and how his death was totally unnecessary and preventable. A few weeks before Christmas in 2001, Joey, myself and a few of my other co-workers were closing down the local restaurant we worked at while attending Umass Lowell. It had been a busy night, and we didn't end up finishing work until 1am. Having worked all day, we were all extremely tired, and could not wait to go home. Most of us were staying in Lowell at the time, but Joey had chosen to commute to campus and therefore had to travel out to Reading. I

Self-refection is not something I like to do or consider myself well versed at accomplishing. However, as this assignment due date is drawing near I am again faced with another friend passing away. His name is Shane, and I worked with him for almost three years in my last unit. He was the definition of a quiet professional, and someone that always seemed to be level headed. He had a beautiful family, consisting of a wife and two young sons about 10 and 12 years old. While I didn’t to work with him for a long period of time, he made a lasting impression with me. He helped mentor me to make decisions only once you have calmed down, take time to look at the whole picture before choosing a course of

Tuesday, September 12th wasn’t any normal day, it was a day of remembrance and sadness. Everyone in the family met at the church at 10 a.m., we then sat there and socialized until eleven o'clock. The preacher, pianist, and singer then walked out into the chapel where we all sat, with emptiness in our hearts. The pianist then started playing a church tune, and the singer, a lady from the church, started singing. Some of the people in the family then glanced at each other and tried not to laugh at the horrid sound of the lady. After she finally stopped singing, the pastor walked up to the casket. He then said, “Bow your heads, We stand here today to honor Robert F. “Bob” Williams.”

Yesterday, my father took me to the flat of Irene Williams. It was a beautiful little place, with big windows looking out upon the busy street. She had lace curtains, a small pink couch made of velvet, and a birch coffee table. On the table was a jar full of biscuits and a cup of tea, still hot. She had pictures of friends, family, and relatives hung up on her walls. It’s a shame I never got to meet Irene, she seems like such a lovely person to talk to. But Irene Williams is dead, and let’s face it, dead people are boring to talk to. They never listen.

February 12th 2014 for a half an hour Roderick Wood died. Without the quick thinking of lifeguards and staff he wouldn’t be here today. Suffering a heart attack at his gym would probably be a wake-up call for anyone to put things into perspective. However with Roderick it was different he wanted his family and friends to know about his life – his accomplishments, failures, regrets – his memories.

Finally, as he abruptly snapped out of his daze, he gazing at me with his deep brown eyes and sighed, "The doctors admitted my dad to Hospice today." Once those disheartening words left his mouth, his face became distraught, his eyes turned dark and droopy, his nose became stuffy, and his lips tensed tightly. Hunching over his long legs, tears began pouring out of his saddened eyes onto his freshly-ironed clothes. My heart crumbled as Grant Oubre, my consoler and companion, was crying beside me. I did not know how to comfort him much less myself; I was in complete and utter shock. As he pulled himself together, he glanced at me once again with his sagging eyes and melancholic expression as he said, "Hospice is where they make you comfortable

James Hosmer was a fisherman, a hunter, a gardener, and an office worker. He thought he was healthy most of his life. He couldn’t wait to retire soon. He had worked his whole life to get to this point. Then tragedy struck, he went to his doctor one day because he was having pain all over his body. That pain ended up being cancer. The cancer would stop him from planting his garden, the cancer would stop him from getting that big fish, and spending time with grandchildren. The cancer would also stop him from his lifelong dream of seeing his daughter Susana Nwosu graduate from nursing school. It was a slow and painful death. The person that was once full of life, happiness, and energy was gone. There was just a shell of a person left. He

Last Sunday, I glimpsed at death's grotesque face, while also learning a valuable lesson. The day began normally, with me waking up and doing my normal routine. It all started, however, when I went to my Sunday tutoring center (I go there for preparation to get into a prestigious school). The center worked like a school, with many students and different tutors for different subjects. I had been going there for a month now, but no other day felt as unsettling as that day.

I was volunteering at the Career Closet that day, when a woman came in with 24 trash bags overfull with clothing, shoes, and prescription medication. As I was unloading the bags from her minivan and bringing them down to the back room of the Closet, she followed me around, telling me the story of her friend’s death. She had had a series of heart attacks and strokes, and lay dying in bed for over a year before her heart finally gave out. Her husband refused to move any of her belongings, but when he got a new girlfriend, she wanted space in their wardrobe, so she finally packed up all of the clothes and handed them off to the woman to whom I was now patiently listening ramble on and on, so she could find a place to donate them.

I frantically run across the street to ask the neighbor to look after my two sons who have just returned from school. Then jump in my car and speed to the hospital. Not sure what to expect when I get there, I brace for the worst as I walk in the room. The room is filled with doctors and nurses all working to stabilize him before the trip “You’ll only have two minutes” I’m told as nurse hurries past me. “The helicopter is here, we’re taking him up now.” I love you was all I had the chance to utter before they rolled the gurney carrying his battered body away. “Where is he being taken” I ask a nurse as I’m running out the door. “Saint Vincent’s in Toledo” she responds

The loss of a loved one can be indescribable, but fortunately Thomas and Smith’s combined understanding of death, has given readers a beautiful insight into that painful world.

I was dreading this day. I respected this man; he was my boss and was always extremely kind to me. Now, I was being told that I had to testify against him.

“I remember a woman in her 60s I was treating for metastatic breast cancer. She was admitted to the hospital with gastric bleeding that was thought to be unrelated to her cancer. I talked to her and her husband and was optimistic about the reversibility of the problem. Because I was trying not to scare her, I did not discuss the issues of advanced directives and resuscitation. That night, she went into shock, required intubation, and went to the intensive care unit. Her husband was devastated and angry that she had had such treatment. The next day, he and I together decided that no additional treatment would be given to prevent her death. He sat with her for more than 24 hours before she died. My desire to be optimistic prolonged her dying