Eulogy's Suicide

It is inevitable that we will all die it is a fact that everyone must come to terms with. There comes a time in everyone’s life that they must face death; a friend’s tragic accident, a family member’s passing or their own battles with diseases. When faced with the idea of death people will act in different ways some may find it therapeutic to apologize for the negative they have done, some may want to spend time with loved ones to ease the future pain, and others may decide that their life was not what they believed. The story Death Constant Beyond Love tells us about a man named Senator Sanchez who is living a happy life with his wife and five kids. That is until he is told by doctors that he only has a short time to live. Death is

Hello my Christian friends, welcome to my father Okonkwo funeral for the converts of the church. I will not stand here in front of you today in a Christian church and tell you of the man the ibo people of Umoufia saw. Yes, I will tell you that my father had a prosperous life, but I will mainly tell you of the man I saw who killed good people before killing himself. I was told to write about the great Okonkwo’s life, and I will tell you nothing but the truth through my eyes.

My first art portfolio, my favorite keychain, my broken bike…1.2.3. No one ever speaks to you about your own ending. How you die is left up to your own imagination. To you, your death can maybe either be due to a glorious, heroic act in which you met a righteous end or a pathetic closing to what you may believe to be a pretty uneventful existence. No one speaks about endings in general, though. Endings only tend to make us feel anything but content. Yet we dream on, foolishly writing silly ends to our lives, forgetting that the ends we create may be plausible one day. College, family, career…1.2.3. My breaths get weary, my heart slows from boisterous thuds to faint, lethargic thumps. Bright rays gleam above, showering me in what is meant to be warmth, but all I feel is cold. My freezing limbs waft slowly within the water, my feet dangling below, my hair flowing behind. My mother’s laughter, my father’s tears of joy, my friends’ bright smiles…1.2.3. I never dreamt my foolish imagination would collide with the inevitable so soon. My days of compiling were over, my good days, my sad days, my sweet, sweet mundane days, would soon come to an end…Air, air, air, air,

The poem “Preface to a Twenty Volume Suicide Note” by Amiri Baraka uses vivid images of sights, sounds, and daily activities to symbolize a heartfelt story. In the poem, Amiri, is one of the African American slaves who is frustrated about the discriminatory treatment by whites. So frustrated he wants to commit suicide. The writer used transition words starting with “lately”, “now”, and “then” for each stanza. He was imagining how he acted before his death and how his daughter reacted to his death.

“Mommy, when will I die?” I can still hear my 4-year old’s little voice asking me this question from the backseat as I am driving. How do I answer her? Do I tell her the truth? Do I lie to her? How do I explain death to a 4-year-old? For her, this question was out of curiosity not fear. For me, this was the most gut wrenching question I had ever been asked. Holding back tears, I gave her the best answer that I knew at the time. “Everyone dies sweetie. Nobody knows exactly when they are going to die. Sometimes it just happens when you least expect it. We all hope to be here for a really long time. And there will always be

JayKob is on his first deer hunt and it is making me irrational that I did not have the time to take off to go with him today! Furthermore, a huge thank you to the real father figure in my son’s life, the one who is showing him how to be a man, and also the one who has helped inculcate Christ into him. My dad, the best Papa in the whole world. Thank you for loving us unconditionally and for being the best example of a REMARKABLE man for

I constantly feared the worst-case scenario: death. That feeling I had, it was something I wouldn 't wish upon anyone. My heart ached, hoping and praying for the best. Monday, we went to visit her, and she looked awful. She couldn 't even stand. Something in my mind told me she wasn 't going to make it. I tried to fight that feeling, but once we were home, I collapsed on my bead and burst into tears. I couldn 't shake the feeling she was going to die. It was the one time I wished for me to be wrong. Unfortunately, I wasn 't. Tuesday, she ended up passing away while being transported to an emergency animal treatment center.

The suicidal signs are easy to identify, and if you identify them early enough you could save a person’s live that could be in danger.

I consider my own mortality quite often. There is a lyric in the musical Hamilton that reads, “I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory. When is it going to get me? In my sleep, several feet ahead of me?” I remember first hearing this lyric and feeling that it was the only words outside of my own thoughts I had connected with in a long while. Over the past few years, I have been forced to reckon with my own mortality more than I believe useful. I have witnessed much death throughout these past couple of years, and I have not always known what to do with it – with the grief, the sorrow, the loss, or the transience.

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.

Death is a very controversial subject. Many argue that it is a terrible phenomenon in life, while others argue for its necessity. One kind of death, however, most would argue against. The death of a child. Something so dreaded it has become a sort of taboo to Western society. Death is a very curious thing, it may take some, while it leaves others. Sometimes it can be surprising, while other times expected. While death may be one of the most inexplicable and confusing phenomena that our world has to offer, there is one certainty, and that is that death is inevitable. As a child, I always knew this to be fact, though I never really saw the effects of it, until I was

It was third grade, and I got the opportunity of a lifetime. I was going to get my very own short story published! I would be the author, the illustrator, and my own idol. I can recall how it all happened very vividly.

I slipped beneath the surface of the pool of grain, my hands sticking straight up over my head as I held my breath, preparing for death. I was preparing for the world to go silent. This was the exact situation my father had warned me about, and I had fallen victim to it despite that. Fourteen years old as of two months ago, and death had already come for me. Or so I thought. I felt firm, callused hands grasp my own, plucking me from my grave. The relief was wonderful. I drank the air in, filling my burning lungs with as much as possible. I almost laughed out of sheer happiness – until my eyes met my father’s.

To contemplate the end of one’s life is never easy, in fact it leads to thousands of other questions and no answers: When will I die? How will I go? Will it hurt? The questions never stop flowing once they begin- it is inevitable. However, over the years many have tried to give answers to these questions through literature.

It’s been 7 years now that I’ve concealed the truth about the death of my husband. The events that happened that day haunts me every time I look at the spot where he lay dead. My child who is now 7 years old have been asking where his daddy is, but I couldn’t respond immediately. It was difficult to get over with. I’ve made a very big sin in my life. The police had no idea who did it, but the search kept on going, day and night. I didn’t want to tell them the truth, I did it for a reason. I don’t want him to leave me and my poor child. In any case, despite everything I still believe that I still picked the right choice of not telling them.