My poor director was at a wake today and he’s going to a funeral soon. He is gay and his partner’s mom died. It’s nice that they have a good relationship with their moms. I’m gay but nobody knows yet, so I hope I have the same type of relationship with my parents.
She sipped her tea and stared at the wall, deep in thought. The funeral had been as most funerals were: a sorrowful occasion. She hated to see so many people all grieving, but what was worse was the few smiling in pure joy.
There have been many funerals in my lifetime. Uncles, aunts, my grandparents. I look at all the pictures that are placed around their funeral. Ones of youth and vibrancy. I wish to myself.’I wish I knew them when they were my age.
My grandfather died this past january after a battle with cancer. His funeral was a few days after and he laid in his casket, his mouth stuffed with cotton and his skin glazed with wax. My grandmother knelt next to him and stroked his face for the entire two day wake. She didn’t cry much, she just kept looking at him.
death, lots and lots of death, my grandmothers funeral when i saw tim playing with his phone. grandpa larry crying along with my mom. how is she doing? my moms last words to her. what was she thinking at the time of her death? did she feel ready? what was my mom thinking?
My dada’s funeral was the worst time in my life. I never want to experience a loved one’s death again, even though I know that’s impossible. Funerals are to cherish the memories one had with the deceased but I would rather never step foot in one again. How can you appreciate life when someone you love is displayed as “gone” to an entire room of people? Funerals are just no fun.
Why do you think that we bury our loved ones? We have large processions and create pieces of stone to commemorate their lives, however this seems more for the living’s comfort rather then the deceased. Because really depending on what you believe, how is a big stone block and a wood box going to help or comfort you whether you’re in heaven, hell, or nirvana.
I went to a funeral recently. Depression hung in the air, like a dark blanket. It suffocated us all and made the atmosphere bleak, and depressing. I then grew to realize that she was at peace, and that I would soon see her again. Hope was found again.
it was dark that day, and drury. she didn’t think that he would actually come, but there you go. he stood there in the rain, smoking his cigarette into the end so he could finally go inside.
The idea of it just hit me in an instance, “Why am I even going to this thing?” I had never met Mr. Thomas before the day before last, and here I am foing to his funeral? It seemed a little silly to me, what was I supposed to do when his snuffy, wrinkly relatives stood around blowing into their hankerchiefs, tell knock-knock jokes?
Funerals always seem unforgivingly pathetic to me. Why would you bother standing around with your awkward relative to cry about someone that people were just waiting to die anyway. While fake-ass preists stand around while waving cancer causing incents and talk about the lives of people they’ve never even spoken to.
My first funeral. My first best friend. I never would have thought this would have happened. But here I am. And here he is. Buried 6 feet under the ground cold and rotting. While I’m warm and barely alive. It’s weird, the ones who want to live die and the ones who want to die live.
I crawled onto the casket. I didn’t really care that everyone was screaming at me. The bastard owed me a nickel, and I wanted it, gosh darn it. I mean seriously, you’d think someone could pay you back before they die.
I’ve only been to one funeral. My grandmother’s. Third grade, confused to see my dad show emotion, confused to have to wear this little suit jacket and this tight tie around my neck, and sad that I really never knew her. I tried to pray.
What would you do if you knew exactly when you would die? Help plan the funeral, divide your assets appropriately…but how exactly would you feel doing those things? Terrified for the unknown, or gratified with what has passed?
I looked at my parents who were crying and I felt my own eyes well up with tears. The wet droplets began rolling down my face as we watched my grandfather’s coffin being carefully lowered into the afterlife. All around us, people were sniffling as they watched.
You always see flowers at a funeral, but I don’t understand why. Why bring something happy and colorful until this dull lifeless event?
The grief and the pain.
It slowly sinks in as people talk one by one.
How can you stand there and talk about someone who has been ripped from your heart?
How can you listen to things that are being said about a person you used to know so well?
They don’t exist anymore.
Not for you.
Not for anyone.
“Gone.”
the saddest word in the English language, in any language.
Death sucks. When people die people get all teary eyed and it bothers the crap out of me. It’s not like I don’t care but I just can’t handle sadness. It’s too depressing.
Its the end of everything and it’s the end of us. It’s like the dot at the end of sentence that sais goodbye. to everything. world. life. Yourself. It’s when you see how much in life you done and how many people think you’ve changed their life.
“Ah, yes, well you see, Mrs. Tutsufreeny, your husband was in the coffin when he was put up on the platform– yes, yes, I can assure you he was perfectly fine– Hm, what was that? Gone? Well, I promise that he is– No, that’s nonsense– Ma’am, dead men don’t go just strolling from their coffins willly nilly– no ma’am, I am not mocking you– n-no ma’am, I never once called you a liar– Please, ma– OUCH!”
I sometimes wonder when, or if, you’ll take me to see your mother. I wonder if she was buried, and where. Would you introduce me? I know I would tell her about you. I know she’d be as proud as I am.
Funerals are sad occasions because one can never be ready for loss. I do not think we were origianally created to die. We were created to live forever. This has to be the case because death is such that one can never be totally prepared for it. I have been to many funerals. Actually I have conducted several funerals and I always have the same emotions a deep sense of loss.
Funerals are depressing,
Last time i went to a funeral was about 3 years ago, it was my fathers mother.
no i don’t refer to her as my grandmother, because to be honest, i hated her.
no not really,
I love my grammy, and i miss her :(
Pam was depressed. She could feel the black lace and ripped denim growing onto her but she couldn’t deem it more powerful than the black and brown casket about to be buried in front of her. Her mother but a cold hand on her shoulder, but Pam quickly shrugged it off. She turned around. She would never be ready to face this. Death itself, staring her in the face, the cold sweat and everlasting glean of a hardly existing life, almost erased and never to be heard of again.
We stood there quietly, soaking in the somber mood that surrounded us. We stood there, in a sea of black. We looked around, it was a sea of tears. So much, so much to take in. I glanced down the length of the church, a mistake I immediately regretted.
Open caskets. Suddenly it became all too real for me. Wave after wave of realization hit me. My mind didn’t listen, to my pleas for a cease-fire. Nothing could stop the present.
I couldn’t take it. So unreal.
Don’t people usually wake up from their sleep? Don’t they?
Not today.
Once again, I was witnessing an eternal slumber. Nothing was going to wake them up again. Once again, I was seeing death up close.
‘When will it be over? Please just let it end,’ I thought to myself. ‘Someone, make it stop.’
I sat, numb, waiting for it all to come closer to an end. Tears fell more times than I care to count.
They were really gone.
And the whole time, I was waiting for them to wake up and wonder why they
were in those scary metal caskets. The whole time, they stayed the way they were.
They had so much more life in them.. To this day, I wonder why they were
taken- ripped- away from loved ones. I wonder why they had to be casualties of
such a terrible tragedy.
And until the day I day, I will continue to wonder, continue to be bitter.
This should have never happened.
Funeral for two. It was a funeral for two.
i was standing in the back. i purposely blocked the coffin from view. i didnt want to see it. i didnt wanna face the fact that he was gone. the flag spread across it and the men standing by to do the ceremony made it worse. his kids all went to the front. everyone had a solemn look on their face. i couldnt bare to look at the coffin. i was keeping it all together. then i felt a slight shove. “move closer” but thats exactly what i didnt want. i didnt want to see anything. i didnt want it to be real. why did it have to happen? and thenas they started talking i started losing it. all i remember is the end. i had only slightly lost it. but then i got a hug. “you know he loved you very much.” and then i jsut couldnt take it any longer. the tears poured out.
The funeral was a quiet sight. All the people who knew him were in deep silence and no one said what they wanted to say. No, he never was a good man, and no one regretted his death. They merely showed up and walked away.
death–dying—saying goodbye—-a new life without them here—-wondering where they are—or if you’ll ever know them again. Looking at those left behind. sadness. Longing. Fear. The unknown. Goodbye. Goodbye…
I thought being around dead people would be a great job. They’d be quiet. There’d be no awkward social interaction. The perfect client. I could do it. Instead I signed up for library school.
Oh no. It appears I am dead. I can see everyone from up here. Guess that’s unlucky, though I always thought more people would be crying. Perhaps no one really misses me at all…
Funerals are awful. I’ve been to far to many in my short life. I hate the whole idea of funerals. A dead body, a church full of crying people. I’m not sure why we even have them. When I die I want a memorial so people can be happy and remember the good times they had with me.
The naked hummer spoke first, “Well, look at Lazarus. It looks as though we won’t be having a funeral after all.” The angel just gaped. Jensen wondered what was so shocking about his appearance. “Wher, where am I ma’am?”
My poor director was at a wake today and he’s going to a funeral soon. He is gay and his partner’s mom died. It’s nice that they have a good relationship with their moms. I’m gay but nobody knows yet, so I hope I have the same type of relationship with my parents.
I went to your funeral but didn’t have the strength to say goodbye.
And now for me, you are not dead but alive somewhere that I cannot find you
death. celebration of life, hope. caring.
She sipped her tea and stared at the wall, deep in thought. The funeral had been as most funerals were: a sorrowful occasion. She hated to see so many people all grieving, but what was worse was the few smiling in pure joy.
There have been many funerals in my lifetime. Uncles, aunts, my grandparents. I look at all the pictures that are placed around their funeral. Ones of youth and vibrancy. I wish to myself.’I wish I knew them when they were my age.
My grandfather died this past january after a battle with cancer. His funeral was a few days after and he laid in his casket, his mouth stuffed with cotton and his skin glazed with wax. My grandmother knelt next to him and stroked his face for the entire two day wake. She didn’t cry much, she just kept looking at him.
death, lots and lots of death, my grandmothers funeral when i saw tim playing with his phone. grandpa larry crying along with my mom. how is she doing? my moms last words to her. what was she thinking at the time of her death? did she feel ready? what was my mom thinking?
My dada’s funeral was the worst time in my life. I never want to experience a loved one’s death again, even though I know that’s impossible. Funerals are to cherish the memories one had with the deceased but I would rather never step foot in one again. How can you appreciate life when someone you love is displayed as “gone” to an entire room of people? Funerals are just no fun.
Why do you think that we bury our loved ones? We have large processions and create pieces of stone to commemorate their lives, however this seems more for the living’s comfort rather then the deceased. Because really depending on what you believe, how is a big stone block and a wood box going to help or comfort you whether you’re in heaven, hell, or nirvana.
I went to a funeral recently. Depression hung in the air, like a dark blanket. It suffocated us all and made the atmosphere bleak, and depressing. I then grew to realize that she was at peace, and that I would soon see her again. Hope was found again.
it was dark that day, and drury. she didn’t think that he would actually come, but there you go. he stood there in the rain, smoking his cigarette into the end so he could finally go inside.
The idea of it just hit me in an instance, “Why am I even going to this thing?” I had never met Mr. Thomas before the day before last, and here I am foing to his funeral? It seemed a little silly to me, what was I supposed to do when his snuffy, wrinkly relatives stood around blowing into their hankerchiefs, tell knock-knock jokes?
Funerals always seem unforgivingly pathetic to me. Why would you bother standing around with your awkward relative to cry about someone that people were just waiting to die anyway. While fake-ass preists stand around while waving cancer causing incents and talk about the lives of people they’ve never even spoken to.
My first funeral. My first best friend. I never would have thought this would have happened. But here I am. And here he is. Buried 6 feet under the ground cold and rotting. While I’m warm and barely alive. It’s weird, the ones who want to live die and the ones who want to die live.
I went to a funeral today. Funny you should ask me to write about this word. There are too many sentences for me to say, and yet not enough.
I crawled onto the casket. I didn’t really care that everyone was screaming at me. The bastard owed me a nickel, and I wanted it, gosh darn it. I mean seriously, you’d think someone could pay you back before they die.
I’ve only been to one funeral. My grandmother’s. Third grade, confused to see my dad show emotion, confused to have to wear this little suit jacket and this tight tie around my neck, and sad that I really never knew her. I tried to pray.
What would you do if you knew exactly when you would die? Help plan the funeral, divide your assets appropriately…but how exactly would you feel doing those things? Terrified for the unknown, or gratified with what has passed?
I looked at my parents who were crying and I felt my own eyes well up with tears. The wet droplets began rolling down my face as we watched my grandfather’s coffin being carefully lowered into the afterlife. All around us, people were sniffling as they watched.
You always see flowers at a funeral, but I don’t understand why. Why bring something happy and colorful until this dull lifeless event?
The grief and the pain.
It slowly sinks in as people talk one by one.
How can you stand there and talk about someone who has been ripped from your heart?
How can you listen to things that are being said about a person you used to know so well?
They don’t exist anymore.
Not for you.
Not for anyone.
“Gone.”
the saddest word in the English language, in any language.
Death sucks. When people die people get all teary eyed and it bothers the crap out of me. It’s not like I don’t care but I just can’t handle sadness. It’s too depressing.
Its the end of everything and it’s the end of us. It’s like the dot at the end of sentence that sais goodbye. to everything. world. life. Yourself. It’s when you see how much in life you done and how many people think you’ve changed their life.
sadness tears fear joy loss nothing more to do all done forever earth dirt flowers tears and more tears death and birth
“Ah, yes, well you see, Mrs. Tutsufreeny, your husband was in the coffin when he was put up on the platform– yes, yes, I can assure you he was perfectly fine– Hm, what was that? Gone? Well, I promise that he is– No, that’s nonsense– Ma’am, dead men don’t go just strolling from their coffins willly nilly– no ma’am, I am not mocking you– n-no ma’am, I never once called you a liar– Please, ma– OUCH!”
I sometimes wonder when, or if, you’ll take me to see your mother. I wonder if she was buried, and where. Would you introduce me? I know I would tell her about you. I know she’d be as proud as I am.
Funerals are sad occasions because one can never be ready for loss. I do not think we were origianally created to die. We were created to live forever. This has to be the case because death is such that one can never be totally prepared for it. I have been to many funerals. Actually I have conducted several funerals and I always have the same emotions a deep sense of loss.
Funerals are depressing,
Last time i went to a funeral was about 3 years ago, it was my fathers mother.
no i don’t refer to her as my grandmother, because to be honest, i hated her.
no not really,
I love my grammy, and i miss her :(
Pam was depressed. She could feel the black lace and ripped denim growing onto her but she couldn’t deem it more powerful than the black and brown casket about to be buried in front of her. Her mother but a cold hand on her shoulder, but Pam quickly shrugged it off. She turned around. She would never be ready to face this. Death itself, staring her in the face, the cold sweat and everlasting glean of a hardly existing life, almost erased and never to be heard of again.
We stood there quietly, soaking in the somber mood that surrounded us. We stood there, in a sea of black. We looked around, it was a sea of tears. So much, so much to take in. I glanced down the length of the church, a mistake I immediately regretted.
Open caskets. Suddenly it became all too real for me. Wave after wave of realization hit me. My mind didn’t listen, to my pleas for a cease-fire. Nothing could stop the present.
I couldn’t take it. So unreal.
Don’t people usually wake up from their sleep? Don’t they?
Not today.
Once again, I was witnessing an eternal slumber. Nothing was going to wake them up again. Once again, I was seeing death up close.
‘When will it be over? Please just let it end,’ I thought to myself. ‘Someone, make it stop.’
I sat, numb, waiting for it all to come closer to an end. Tears fell more times than I care to count.
They were really gone.
And the whole time, I was waiting for them to wake up and wonder why they
were in those scary metal caskets. The whole time, they stayed the way they were.
They had so much more life in them.. To this day, I wonder why they were
taken- ripped- away from loved ones. I wonder why they had to be casualties of
such a terrible tragedy.
And until the day I day, I will continue to wonder, continue to be bitter.
This should have never happened.
Funeral for two. It was a funeral for two.
Funerals are not fun for anyone except the guest of honor.
Caskets, Flowers, and Tears.Very sad and depressing. Eery and creepy. Old aged people. Family gathering.
i was standing in the back. i purposely blocked the coffin from view. i didnt want to see it. i didnt wanna face the fact that he was gone. the flag spread across it and the men standing by to do the ceremony made it worse. his kids all went to the front. everyone had a solemn look on their face. i couldnt bare to look at the coffin. i was keeping it all together. then i felt a slight shove. “move closer” but thats exactly what i didnt want. i didnt want to see anything. i didnt want it to be real. why did it have to happen? and thenas they started talking i started losing it. all i remember is the end. i had only slightly lost it. but then i got a hug. “you know he loved you very much.” and then i jsut couldnt take it any longer. the tears poured out.
The funeral was a quiet sight. All the people who knew him were in deep silence and no one said what they wanted to say. No, he never was a good man, and no one regretted his death. They merely showed up and walked away.
death–dying—saying goodbye—-a new life without them here—-wondering where they are—or if you’ll ever know them again. Looking at those left behind. sadness. Longing. Fear. The unknown. Goodbye. Goodbye…
I think that it’s weird this word has the word fun in it… This is not a comforting word… Sounds harsh when you say it.
I thought being around dead people would be a great job. They’d be quiet. There’d be no awkward social interaction. The perfect client. I could do it. Instead I signed up for library school.
Oh no. It appears I am dead. I can see everyone from up here. Guess that’s unlucky, though I always thought more people would be crying. Perhaps no one really misses me at all…
Funerals are awful. I’ve been to far to many in my short life. I hate the whole idea of funerals. A dead body, a church full of crying people. I’m not sure why we even have them. When I die I want a memorial so people can be happy and remember the good times they had with me.
wow. my parents’ in 1996 first in January then in July. wonderful summaries of wonderful lives. ashes in the mountains. adios tata adios nana.
The naked hummer spoke first, “Well, look at Lazarus. It looks as though we won’t be having a funeral after all.” The angel just gaped. Jensen wondered what was so shocking about his appearance. “Wher, where am I ma’am?”