Funeral-Personal Narrative

Cozy coffee shops, warm summers, friendly hugs…1.2.3. Disastrous events occur all the time. We are always aware that someone, somewhere in the world, is hurtling forwards into tragedy. Tragic endings leave behind unanswered questions, unfulfilled dreams, unspoken thoughts. Those who love you are left behind, in the dust of your presence, spent to forever remember only your memory, not your existence. Crisp slices of toast, piping hot cups of tea, fresh strawberries…1.2.3. We all tend to forget an end exists. We spend our lives compiling as many happy memories as we can, fully enjoying the good days, deeply mourning the sad ones. When tragedy strikes, only then are we reminded that the end is there, and we scurry and try once again to make the most out of

Dealing with grief is never easy. One of the hardest time in anyone’s life is when an acquaintance or a loved one passes away. In the second week of the Fall 2016 semester, I received a devastating call. I walked into my chemistry class, and my mom called me from Turkey to tell me that my grandmother had passed away. I sat in silence in the car on the way home and thought about my grandmother. She had taught me innumerable important lessons throughout my life. Losing her changed everything, and I knew I had to return to my home country to say goodbye to my grandmother.

Will my mom be angered at me? Will she be sad to see me in pain? What if,no she will be happy to see me.

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

That morning, (midday really, but shush) Dan Howell woke up in the arms of Phil Lester, who was none other than the love of his life.The other man had his arms wrapped tightly around him, and was breathing softly into the nape of his neck. Smiling, sleepily content, Dan snuggled down, falling back to sleep in their little bubble where everything is soft and warm and good.

The highway blurred in front of us as the blistering heat floated from the asphalt and pierced through the surface of my beloved green Buick Roadmaster. Having had to survive the 1100 mile journey to San Antonio under extreme heat and financial limitations, Chuck and I were suffering from hunger, thirst, and fatigue. Driving to his ex-girlfriend Catherine’s funeral, Chuck surprisingly showed a stoical acceptance of her death. However, his peculiarly expressionless face and complete lack of speech made me question his sanity. The last encounter they had was when she came to visit just a week ago, after which Chuck announced their break up. By then he had dated her for almost five years, faithful to her even from a different side of the country.

As the sun descended the sky and the moon quickly began to rise, a cold wind ran through the autumn air, rustling the turning leaves. In front of me lies a crumbling graveyard with headstones covered in green moss and overgrown grass all around. On occasion the grass would rustle from an animal's sudden movement. This place has a eerie feeling, one that could never leave me, no matter how long I've been here. The dark sky makes it difficult to walk through the maze of headstones. I let my hand brush against the rough texture of the headstones. I look around the landscape that surrounds me, and my eyes landed on a pair of luminous green eyes, making me jump. I lick my lips and despite the cold air, I can taste the saltiness of sweat. I want

Have you ever been to a funeral? If you haven't you're pretty lucky. I remember seeing everyone's emotions spilling out of them like a waterfall into the ocean and the hatred I had for her for leaving me here alone! I remember singing her favorite songs to her and everyone that came. Of course I was crying so it sounded horrible. I just miss her!

The train station wasn't to far from my apartment. It was only a short walk away. I took it to see my mother every other weekend because she lived alone and needed the company. I stepped out of my building with an over night bag in hand and began walking through the cold air. The branches over the sidewalk had no leaves in them. Everything was bare and dead because of the brutal winter cold.

I do not have much to say about Death/Dying, because all of my family members and friends are healthy and alive. Thanks God for it! However, I had lost a friend, not a close one but he was the guy I used to hang out with. His name was Vitaly. He used be an A student in one of the best math/engineering universities in Moscow. I still do not what happened, but one day he got expelled out of the University and began hanging out on the streets with all of us. He was introduced to the street life very quickly and was into drugs within a month. We all were. We were having fun, and none of us carried what this lifestyle could lead to. After some short time, we got to know that Vitaly made some friends that used heroin, and used it a lot. We did

I am not a religious woman, I take no stock in stories of creation, I do not believe the world was crafted by some divine and omniscient power. Our thoughts, our perceptions, every aspect of our lives are a result of the intricate set of rules that govern the universe, some might call that god. I call them physics. We enter this world as a tiny collection of cells, multiplying and specializing to create a human life, and we leave it as a much larger, immensely complex amalgamation. Thus far in my life, I have never doubted my convictions, I have attended church, read scripture, and listened to the words of priests, pastors, and self-proclaimed experts. Yet a few months ago my lack of faith was tested. One night, I lay awake, filled

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

I found myself slowly walking up to his memorial. The crash site, where he passed away. The telephone pole stood upright, with letters and flowers scattered on the ground next to it. In the middle, one of his hats, hung up, surrounded by love letters and pictures of him and his friends. The air around me was heavy, I had only my thoughts keeping me company. Down the road, my step dad sat, in his car, tearing up seeing the memorial. I kiss my hand, and place it to the pole. Muttering out a prayer. Let me explain what happened

I believe in always going to a funeral for someone that you met, or that is close to the family, my grandfather taught me this. I was 15 years old when he told me this, a friend of his that he worked with had passed away, and he had asked if I wanted to go. I didn't want to go at first, but he explained to me that I should always go to a funeral for the sake of the family involved.

Losing somebody who cannot be substituted by another person is one of the hardest things that one can ever go through. I was overwhelmed by this, figuring out how to beat the greater part of the emotional troubles that I needed to confront. It all started when my aunt Amy passed away when I was a freshman in high school. It has been four years since my aunt had passed away, yet the memories of her still stays in my heart, where it will stay for eternity. Each time I go back to the Philippines and stroll into my grandparent’s home, her photos are there to help me remember one of the best aunts in my life.