My Eulogy Essay

As soon as my eyes woke up to the bitter cold of the night and stars covered by black blanket of clouds, I knew that this was it. I had tried to prepare myself that day, but I was at school when it happened. The moment the intercom came over the classroom, “Hailey Wooldridge needs to come the office, her mom is here to check her out,” my heart stopped. I was able to make it to the office without losing my composure, but as soon as my eyes met my mom standing there with tears in hers I lost it. Right there standing in the school office, the food gates of heaven opened up in my eyes and I could not stop the rivers from flowing. My best friend since kindergarten had died. All the planning of moving in together when we went to college was down the drain. The late nights of watching horribly filmed scary movies was done. My heart was broken, and the pieces are still not taped together properly. Two days later was her funeral. Her mother had asked me to say a couple of words about her during the service, but the thought of standing next to her lifeless body talking about her and not to her made everything seem surreal. By the power of prayer and numerous amounts of tears, I stood up from my seat and walked lifelessly to the podium that viewed hundreds of people waiting to see what I had to say. I do not know how I got through that speech without hysterically crying, but somehow, I talked like I was having a conversation with Serra once again. In front of me, I

“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

An example is on page 86, “ I’m still afraid of Erik. I’m afraid of Arthur now, too.” Paul is scared of his brother Erik, the antagonist, and is now scared of his friend Arthur. Erik has harassed Paul in the past, and Paul knows he needs to end it. He knows his parents won’t do anything to fix it, he needs to stand up for himself. But he doesn’t have the courage to do it. Paul is angry at himself for that. Therefore making the low self esteem issue. Another example is when Paul gets kicked off the Lake Windsor soccer team because of his eyes. The Lake Windsor school has to have insurance for all the players, without it, they lose the program. Paul put up a fight but knew he had failed. He didn’t argue after that and just sat there and cried on the field. Paul then declined to be the team manager because he was a player. Paul gave up with his dream and was weak in the

I had never given much thought into how I would die. There’s something about being young that causes us to believe we’re invincible. It’s not like dying young is uncommon, it’s just that there’s something extra despairing about a life ending before it had really begun. Over the past 18 years, I’ve never thought twice about my mortality. I mean, it wasn’t anything special to me. I knew that I would eventually die, but eventuallies aren’t always as far as you think. Here I am, only 18 years old, my cold body

I was consumed by my own anger: the fear of being all alone, that I wasn’t able to control the beast in me. Because of this, I had missed the last words my mother said, her last days and her last smile. I was selfish, and as much as it pains me to admit, my ego was greater than anything that was happening in the house.

A shantytown called the Alto do Cruzeiro (Crucifix Hill), is one of the three shantytowns bordering the big marketplace area in the town of Bom Jesus in the sugar plantation district of Northeast Brazil, a solitary part of the countless regions of disregard that have materialized in the darkness of the now stained economic wonder of Brazil. The Alto women practice an unusual method of caring for their offspring especially when handling the death of their infants. The high rate of infant death can be credited to poverty and malnutrition. Illness and infant deaths are taken nonchalantly not by just the social institutions in the Alto but also by the child's own mother and this has

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

Keeping a person alive by excessive treatment might devastate the family and make the dying suffer tremendously in the end. “Advance medical technology that seems to one person a godsend, extending life, may seem to another a curse that only prolong dying. Dignity can be devalued amid technology focused solely on the biological organism.”

The novel by Robert Cormier, “After the First Death” uses characters to explore the issues of patriotism and terrorism. Cormier have shown how horrible acts such as terrorism can be carried out under the guide of patriotism. “After the First Death” presents a teenage terrorist, Miro and Artkin, a leader of a terrorist group, both have the goal to win back their country and view themselves as freedom fighters. However, the difference between their mental personalities challenges the perspective of terrorists that many have. Cormier also uses General Marchand; the leader of a secret organisation, to represent that patriotism in the hand of justice can still lead to wrongful actions.

It was a late summer afternoon in Crenshaw Los Angles. The sun is setting and I was sitting at the stairs of the two apartment building I lived at. I was waiting for my dad to return from work. Down in the street gust of wind blew torn paper into spirals. The sun was shining through the bright blue empty sky making it hard to see through the distance as the light shines through my eyes. My father was walking towards me with the harsh light of the sun outlining his body. As my father began to come closer to me the sun began to set even more. Light fading away as soon as my father stood in front of me. As he stood in front of me I was able to smell the fresh paint that was stained on his pants all the way up to his neck. He then squats down in

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.

She looked so small, so defeated and it was all because of me. Her enthusiasm for reading dampened, the light behind her eyes dim. Like the worst type of criminal stealing bread from the poor, I had stolen the burning passion for education my mother had once possessed. She was innocent, but I was not. With no makeup to conceal them, sleepless bags under her eyes stood out on her pale face. She appeared delicate, a word that before the accident I would have never used in relation to my mother. The terrible ocean of grief pulled back it’s debilitating waves, leaving salty tears clinging to my face. The stream of emotion pulled back with it whatever positive attitude I had. In its place was left hatred like no other. A hated for the world, hatred for myself. I didn’t want to watch this anymore, I couldn’t bare to look, unable to lay eyes on the life I had ruined by destroying my

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

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

On Death and Dying By Elisabeth Kubler-Ross For my book review, I read On Death and Dying, by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross. Dr. Kubler-Ross was the first person in her field to discuss the topic of death. Before 1969, death was considered a taboo. On Death and Dying is one of the most important psychological studies of the late twentieth century. The work grew out of her famous interdisciplinary seminar on death, life, and transition. In this paper, I give a comprehensive book review as well as integrate topics learned in class with Dr. Kubler-Ross' work. Like Piaget's look at developmental stages in children, there are also stages a person experiences on the journey toward death. These five stages are denial/isolation, anger, bargaining,