Mrs. Ferguson 's An Emotional Breakdown

After the autopsy is complete Henrietta’s body is taken to Clover for her funeral. The day of the funeral is rainy and windy. At the precise moment that her coffin is lowered, at violent wind and downpour hits the burial and family members believe it is a sign from

I clutched the hem of my funeral shawl. Hidden beneath the black lace, my blood-stained dagger offered me little peace. Winter’s frigid air slapped my face and I steeled myself in the graveside tent. Its dark canvas flapped in the wind and the rain drummed the top, serenading me in a cruel Christmas carol. Preacher John reached up with a dingy handkerchief, patted his forehead and proclaimed my dead husband a good man. I wiped a stray tear away and wondered if preachers went to hell for lying.

One terribly chilly night Daisy’s father went outside to check on the horse. This was his daily routine. He would refill the water, stock the food and brush the horse's mane. When he was around the horse, he always felt a sense of safety and warmth, but tonight things were different. He came upon the barn and he saw her. She was laying on the ground stiff. She was

“I need to visit her,” he said, leaving the recycle center and drove down the street. Arriving at the cemetery, Mr. Cassidy parked on the side of the road, walked down the pathway lined with tall tombstones and stopped at the one with Helen Cassidy’s name across the top. “Hello, sweetheart, I love you and wish you were here,” he said, sitting down on the grass beside the

In such small towns life has a continuity that extends beyond the grave. The dead, buried inside the town, were as much a part of Dorrance as the blacksmith’s shop and Weber’s lumberyard. Their graves were visited on Decoration Day by all the townsfolk. Few people, living or dead, left Dorrance; almost everyone stayed on, content and patient to labor and wait.

It’s so still here, so quiet, so peaceful. I walked past rows of gravestones as I finally approached the site where my relatives lay. To many, visiting their relatives in a cemetery can be a sad experience; I however, was happy for them, because they still gathered together as they had before. I smiled as I remembered those times, when I was but a child and I could just barely see over the table. I could hear their talking and laughter again. How warm and familiar it all was! I remembered how laughter would erupt after my father told a good joke – he was always telling jokes. I could even smell the feast my mother and aunts would cook for us, and could almost feel them slapping my hand as I tried to sneak a piece of turkey before the meal. I remembered sitting at the smaller table with my cousins and siblings, feeling as if I were too old to sit at the kid's table. I remembered feeling left out, as if the adults kept some kind of grown-up secret from me. That same feeling I felt again, as I stood there seeing them all lying as they used to sit, in those two long rows. Although I had grown to be an adult, they still seemed to keep some secret from me, one that I was not to know of yet, one that I am not ready yet to

The black curtained hearse, drawn by two black horses, rolled slowly through the streets of Charleston. Following behind, were Eli, Allie, Mary O’Toole, Willie, Gabriel, and half of Charleston’s, ‘old guard’ as they made their way to the cemetery for her burial. Clara Christopher Harris would be laid to rest beside her husband of over fifty years, whose grave was located at the feet of her parents, Elijah and Patience Christopher. Allie could not contain the emotions she felt- Sadness, because her grandmother was gone; anger, because she was gone, shame, because she had not gone to visit her before she died; she also felt a sense of self-loathing; for what reason, she could not decipher. Eli’s sudden gigging in her ribs with his elbow caused her to want to slap him when she looked at him to see what he was gigging her for and saw the mischievous grin on his face.

“Do you want to do the honors?” Delaware asked outstretching the urn towards Gail challenging her to take it. Gail retrieved the urn from Delaware. Goosebumps dimpled her skin as she looked beyond the twinkling stars and said a little prayer. Gail opened the urn and gently poured some of the ashes into the lake. She passed the urn to Delaware who poured the rest of the ashes into the lake. They watched the dark ashes dissolve like nothingness into the water. Deep in thoughts, Delaware marveled at the action of spreading a stranger’s ashes they had just performed. Who was that person? What was the person like? She wondered until the voice of her friend interrupted her thoughts. “What did you say?” Delaware

Readjusting her gaze to look down upon herself in the casket, she admired at how carefully and delicately she had been arranged with her hands still resting on her stomach. The dark blue dress that had been picked out for her had always been on of her favorites. It was modest but classy, it didn’t show any cleavage but it also didn’t have a high neckline. It went to about the knee, and then they covered the rest her legs in black stockings with small black heels on her feet. Her hair had been left down, looking the same

The preacher leaves the front of the church and waves her forward. She rubs her sweaty palms together. She takes two deep breaths, putting her left foot out in front of her followed by the right. She begins walking towards the lone, dark wood casket. Her best friend lied beneath the closed doors. She makes her way to the front and faces the crowd clothed in mourning clothes. She glances around the crowd, noticing the red eyes and used tissues.

She looked towards me, her face growing ever paler, she trembled, as tears began to run down her, once rosy red cheeks. her gaping mouth began to move, trying to form words. however she found it difficult as her breath was leaving her

“I wish my son to go back to the grave.” It had been a year since Jerold White had said those seemingly unpleasant, but altogether necessary words. Eileen White was never the same after Herbert passed away. She was distant, trying to keep herself busy with different tasks all the time.

Sister Muriel, who was also my grandmother, and who I affectionately referred to as granny, was a bit more tired than usual on the eve of December 10, 1958.  Slumber seemed to be calling early, so quietly heading toward the dorm seemed to be the best idea to take her tired body. As her feet climbed the stairs, she could feel the cool breeze against her face, and her body seemed to be a little more difficult going up these steep cement steps, there were so many of them. This evening seemed to encourage reflective thoughts, normally she had a smile for everyone, but tonight her mood a bit melancholy, but then again it could be she had a long day serving, or she missed her deceased husband, Merritt.  However, the quiet, evening allowed her to

Abbey would stay with our father while I had some much needed time away. If she was unable to, the visiting hospice nurse accompanied his needs. The hours I spent at a bunch of graves would appear obsessive to some, but it was comforting to be near even if it was at gravestones. Perhaps it was a way to connect with Calvin, despite the reality of his death. Visiting his stone, keeping the lots maintained; all of these factors, as trivial as they were, helped with my grief. A minor part of me felt foolish, while the majority indispensably embraced this without

It was just another November outside the city, fairly poor on spare-time choices, but rainy and gray. Right between sudden showers, Carrie decided to move towards the mail box and send a letter she’d never be replied to. For years so far she tried to solve the mystery of her origins, writing to a father figure that did not seem too realistic. Sometimes, at night, before she reached the happiness of an undisturbed dream, she realized it might be just a story. Over and over again she moved forward from her blindness, but believed the story already at dawn. That is simply how life functioned in her small village-she had to hold on something!