You were on your way home when you died. It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMT 's tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better of, trust me. And that 's when you met me. "What... what happened?" you asked. "Where am I?" "You died," I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words. "There was a... a truck and it was skidding..." "Yeah," I said. "I... I died?" "Yeah. But don 't feel bad about it. Everyone dies," I said. You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. "What is this place?" You asked. "Is this the afterlife?" "More or less" I said. "Are you god?" You asked. "Yeah," I replied. "I 'm God. Your idea of God anyways." "My kids... my wife" you said. "What about them?" "Will they be alright?" "That 's what I like to see," I said. "You just died and your main concern is your family. That 's good stuff right there." You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn 't look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty. "Don 't worry," I said. "They 'll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn 't have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it
We started speeding down the road to meet the ambulance. Upon meeting them I was rushed to Wilcox Memorial Hospital, bumping my dad from the operating room right before he his knee surgery. I wasn't suspected to make it, as I had lost seventy percent of my blood. But somehow, with the help of God, I underwent several surgeries and within the next few days I was stabilized and discharged from the hospital.
You were in a terrible car accident. One that sent you into that putrid hospital across the street from Walmart where all the stoners hung out. Of course, even the paramedics were incompetent in your town. They were trying, I guess. They were able to successfully pull you from your collapsed car that had been flipped over seven times. Or so you were told. Well I guess you weren’t told, but you overheard. You were unconscious, but you had full capability of your hearing, only you had no way of communicating this. You were around the clock fed heavy sedatives through the IV tapped to the inside of your limp arm.
My heart was throbbing, heavily and I could feel my body shutting down, my vision was getting hazy. And then suddenly I heard the sirens of the ambulance and two paramedics got down to our rescue as I fell unconscious.
Going up the hill i was fine, but making my way down i looked back to check on my little brother when I lost control of the wheel and slid off the motor scooter. My brother rushed back to my house to get my mother, when she arrived i was unconscious. She called 911, the paramedics noticed that their was something wrong with the way my body was aligned. They cut off my helmet and loaded me onto the stretcher and into the
Researchers MacCallum and Golombok (2004) argued that results from previous studies focusing on the loss of a father could not be generalized to children who grew up in households without a father from birth. This is where lesbian mothers and single mothers come into their research, because these families did not necessarily have an absentee father due to family disruption or realignment. For example, lesbians have used assisted conception and/or adoption. In earlier times, lesbian mothers weren’t always allowed these options. Many often lost their children due to the belief that children of homosexuals would have psychological and developmental problems, and at the time, many believed the children of homosexuals would be ostracized,
Trust me, this isn’t what I intended, but I need to know if you actually went to that Something with a capital S you talked about. If you don’t want me and Isaac to get married, just send a signal.” I sighed slowly, realizing how crazy I sounded. “Never mind. I just miss you so much Augustus. I really do miss you.” I stood up and awkwardly waved goodbye to the tombstone. Nice going, Hazel! Way to be smooth, I though sarcastically. Wow, I thought. I’m seriously arguing with myself over talking to my dead boyfriend’s tombstone. How depressingly morbid. I walked towards my car. I laid my head on the steering wheel and
I’m one of your most honest friends, Andy, and, no offense, but dude, he died like, a hecka’ long time ago. You tellin’ us we need to go to some mountain in god knows where to help you cry over your daddy is about as stupid as Miley Cyrus’ comeback into media.” I stare into his desolate, dark, black eyes. “Is that really how you feel Jack?”, I ask him. He looks at me almost, understandingly. “Yes, Andy. I wouldn’t lie to you. I know your dad meant a lot to you, but you have to let go”. I look at the crowd of my friends faces, “Who else feels this way? Come on, just raise your hand”. Everyone except for Sarah raises their hand. “Sarah.”, I speak directly to her. “Yes, Andronicus?”, she replies. I give her the same look of desperation that I gave Jack, “How would you feel about coming with me to Mt. Polaris?” I disparagingly ask her; she looks at me and smiles, “I would love
“ I don't know what upset you like that, but I'm here for you. I'm not going anywhere, ” he smiled softly.
The sudden deceleration blunt force I had to endure upon impact my whole body took a violent jolt sideways and backward I could feel my muscles and ligaments in my body being stretched and twisted beyond my natural limits and even though I was wearing my seat belt , the force of impact slammed my head int the drivers side window. I lost consciousness for a few seconds. Someone called 911 , I can not remember much after that , my head was
Anyways, I was in a plane crash, and the only survivor. I had been on a plane trip, a normal trip for a business meeting, and was supposed to be heading back home after that. Except something went wrong. We could tell by the flight crew standing near the cockpit for most of the trip. Near the end of the
As seen throughout the assigned readings and videos from this semester, for many cultures and religions, the death of an individual is not quite the end. There are still many things done after the death, from preserving the body to never even mentioning that deceased individual’s name again. Life styles tend to influence death styles. Religious beliefs are the primary way to understand how societies frame the explanation, grief management and societal impact of the loss of an individual. In the case of death, although the focus is on the dead individual - the function of certain rituals is to help survivors by allowing the group a “time out” period after which the group must deal with a “new normal”.
The term femicide had been in use long before Diana E.H. Russell reintroduced it to modern lexicon. In fact, it was first used in A Satirical View of London at the Commencement of the Nineteenth Century in 1801 to notate the killing of a woman. Shortly after, in 1827, a manuscript by the name of The Confessions of an Unexecuted Femicide was published that details the murder of a young women by William MacNivish. Additionally, the word femicide appeared in Wharton 's Law Lexicon in 1848, suggesting that it had become a criminal offense. (Russell 2001). Even before this inclusion, however, was the social control of women through the witch-crazy in sixteenth and seventeenth century England. Rooted in the desire to eradicate heresy and reinstate fellowship to the Catholic Church, whose view on women and gender is largely based on the creation story in Genesis. The universally known story of Adam and Eve preaches the danger in the sexual insatiability of women, and Russell states that, “It was particularly female sexuality that made women sinful... and led men into damnation through association with their bodies,” (Russell 1992:28). Therefore, by inducing fear of violent interrogation, imprisonment, and sentencing to death (only to women, remember), the witch-craze was a tool for imparting social control over the women and can now be looked back upon as femicide. The use of violence against women by men was reliant on a construct of female sexuality, and the ways in which they
It was a warm summer’s night when I pulled up in my blue Corvette convertible to pick up my boyfriend, Colton. To my surprise, he was already standing outside, dressed to kill, as usual, but there was a string of cars lined up along the curb. Colton motioned for me to pull in front of the cars; seemingly, trying to prevent me from seeing what was going on.
In the aftermath, Lily often wondered why Voldemort had given her the chance to save herself, not just once, but three times. The most logical assumption was that he 'd simply been amusing himself before delivering the killing blow, knowing she 'd never step aside and leave her baby undefended.
Life is unpredictable and an accident can happen anytime. on our way back home from church my dad was driving a black 2012 Toyota Highlander, which is a family car that seven people can ride in it. My younger brother, Taw Nay Gay, and I were sitting on the seat behind the driver seat by the door. My other two younger brothers, Gay Nay Soe and Soe K Maw, sat in the seat behind me, and my mom sat in the front passenger seat. For the first time a nineteen year old girl like me started to believe that I had a reason to live and my life could be taken away anytime. This happened on October first 2017, 7:30 pm when we got into a car accident by the traffic lights intersection. Three cars were damaged, but everyone in the cars were fine.