The funeral was sad, rainy, black. The shots were fired. Then again. Then the soldiers folded the flag into a perfect triangle and handed it to the weeping mother.
Emily T.
I was leaning on an elm tree, looking over the mass of black robes and veils. The white marble tombstone of my grandfather was haunting me in my mind. I never got to say goodbye to him. Without noticing it, tears were rolling down my cheeks silently.
“Goodbye, Grandpa…” I whispered.
My mother ushered me out of the funeral and opened the car door for me. I sat there with my hands covering my face, unable to look at the view outside again.
i think of death and dying. but when you do ill sprinkle your ashes over carpinteria. i promise. and we’ll all wear white and play stevie nicks, just like you asked. you will die some day, but you’ll never be forgotten.
Meghan
Ive only really been to two wakes in my life and have never been to a real funeral. But I guess I consider a real funeral to be when a coffin is buried into the ground. I feel like I’m not good in these types of situations because everyone is crying around me and i’m not much of a cryer at funerals, well then again ?i wouldn;t know.
naz
death. there’s something oddly comforting about seeing all the people there. all mourning the same person. it unites them. they enjoy it as much as I, hopefully. weddings, now those are depressing.
Courtney
The saddness swelled all around me as i stood all alone at your funeral. What could have ever happened to lead me to this dreadful place? The fact that you were dead, and I would never again kiss your sweet lips without the cold kiss of death on them first. Your funeral was some place I never wanted to be. I had be to so many before, but the feeling in the pit of my stomach was like nothing I had ever felt before. Was it because you were my first love? Or because you were the first person to kill yourself that I knew. I think it was both, but as i stood at your funeral, I could feel a part of me hating you; my heart welled with pain and I needed someone to blame. You seemed like the best option, because it was your fault, right? Then why did part of me feel it was my fault? When did we decide that you dying was part of our plan? We had so many things set for our future, but that didn’t include me dressed in black, carrying your casket to the grave.
Brandi
Wow, really, funeral? That’s not what I was expecting. Funeral makes me think of my grandfather’s funeral, which makes me glad because it was a miracle that I even got to see him before he passed away of cancer, and I praise God for that opportunity. So yeah, funerals can be happy
Cara
We went to his funeral twenty days later. It was a sad affair. No one really understood the entirety of the situation until they saw his lifeless corpse laying in the coffin before them. His mother was weeping in the front row, her eyes a red abyss under her dark glasses.
stefanie
My grandmother’s funeral was the first open casket funeral I had ever been to. I refused to look at her dead body up close; I only chanced glances from across the room. I think my father was offended I didn’t say my final “Goodbyes.” He didn’t know that I had said them long ago while her spirit was still there.
Funeral, a place of death, wreaking of decay, a time known for sadness. It makes you forget that for all the death you’re thinking about, the only dead thing there, is the corpse. You are all alive.
C
She wasn’t mourning, she thought, the death of her grandmother’s life, but rather the diminishing of it. The state of dying as a result of the state of living. How youth and laughter slipped away into old bones and laugh lines.
Samantha
The first time I went to a funeral, I was thirteen going on fourteen. My grandfather had just passed away after a heart attack, and it was one of the worst experiences of my life. I remember going up to the casket to see him, his face looking strange and rubbery, fake with a giant smile spread across his lips. I remember kissing his forehead and saying goodbye.
The only other thing I remember were his hands. His hands were often swollen at the joints from arthritis, but there on that day, they were smooth. They looked pain free. Somehow, that brought me a tiny bit of solace.
It was sunny, so sunny and bright I couldn’t stand the black wool clinging to me. Everyone cried, I could not. How can we cry for the people we have not truly known? I wished to know her, but the hourglass was tipped and the remaining grains of sand were drained.
Chloe
death, loss, sadness, mourning, people at a funeral gathering drink wine and sit around in awkward crowds. No one really wants to be there
gloria
So the other day I went to a funeral dressed in yellow. People thought I looked weird. I don’t think the dead person minded much, for he couldn’t see my clothes. I think he felt my presents. He was glad I was there and I was happy that he was no longer on this earth. 94 years is long enough.
Shelby
every time i go to the funeral i cry. i know its for me but still i just cant stand it. i cant breathe staring down at myself its awful. everyone is crying , crying. I hate that i am hurting so many people. but it was for the beat. really i just ended up hurting more people than i was helping. killing myself was the best way out of this all. the knife against my skin just felt so right at the moment so serene.
nicoleSilva
A stale, unnatural icky occasion.
There’s nothing meaningful anyone
can really say or do.
Funerals should be held in silence,
No talking,
Except for cries, sniffles
Or the ocassional nose blow.
I like watching the hugs, hand holding
and a sincere back rub.
Sadness, there is mourning. There is no justice, no help, no way to get over it. But you just must let go. Because if you love something, it will someday break your heart.
Bella Dillman-Cook
My uncle’s funeral was sad. Everybody either cried, sang, or couldn’t cry any longer. He was a great man. I miss him. May he rest in peace.
I haven’t been to a funeral in a long time. In fact, I think the last one was my uncle’s when I was fifteen. No wait, two of my high school classmates lost their fathers not too long ago. i went to the wake for one but the funeral of the other. it was tragic to see someone so young going through that. Now that it’s been several years since high school, we’re reaching the age where more and more classmates are starting to lose parents. It gets one thinking about one’s own mortality.
chelsea
I sat, looking outside my window, watching as they took my grandfather’s casket away. Grandpa; the only man I’d ever cared for. Ever loved. Ever trusted.
The hot tears streamed down my face as I took a deep breath. In. Out.
My cousin Annie touched my shoulder.
“It’ll be okay.”
“No,” I breathed. “No.”
It will never be okay again.
I wiped my eyes and collapsed onto the floor.
Funerals are very sad, often associated with crying. Especially death. One day I will have a funeral. I hope no one will cry and everyone will be happy. For eternity. I dread my parents’s funeral; my sister’s as well.
Lyndsey
It was a unique experience. I could hear them all milling about like creepers at an orphanage, and you want to know what I thought? The only thing I thought? What did they care about me in death if they couldn’t muster care in life? It was QUITE unique.
“Yeah, well, when I’m at your funeral I’ll wink as I throw the rose in and whisper ‘I told you so’ over your corpse, yeah?”
They’d never had a fight like this before. They were best friends, so of course they had their ups and downs, but…not like this.
Once there was A funeral. Only instead of people wearing black, they were all dressed in the most colorful clothes you could ever think of and there will be baloons and fun gifts for everyone to pass to each other and instead of mourning a good life, we will celebrate it.
Jamie Melius
sadness. losing someone you loved. joy because they are going to be with God! And joy because I know I will see them again. but still unsure because some people who die you don’t know how their relationship is with God. But thats between them and God.
A loss to gain life
Joy in mourning
victoria
you hold your mother’s pearlnuts in your latent hands
and hesitate to tread
beyond the licorice trimmings
of your hospital gown,
the buttons down your back making lower case D’s
that manage to stutter what you cannot
concerning weightlessness
that far away feeling
where you never return from.
the eyes you stare but do not look with
are empty styrofoam cup dregs–
direct translation for the storage of words
floating in the distension of your stomach
like burning books you can mold into
hannah wells
She cried. Like no one had ever seen before. She wailed and screamed. I didnt expect this. when I killed him I didnt expect anyone to care. Let alone myself. While I cried and everyone whispered about me, and what they all knew I did, I died with him, I unintentionally committed suicide.
The asphalt was cold today. And with the sun shining brightly and no cars to be seen, I felt it wasn’t right. There was no one to smell the scentless stale air or hear the soundless noise.
The only thing I can remember is my funeral. Where am I?
My mother is going to a funeral tomorrow. I feel awkward not going with, I guess. But why should I? I didn’t like the man. She knew it, he knew it. I suppose it would be awkward if I went. What would I do? Cry? I feel horrible saying it but really, I don’t think I would. Even the worst of men die.
Boyd
She was dead I didn’t understand why, but it hurt. Being my mother for so long had made her special, I suppose…
Jenny
It was raining. It always seems to be raining at funerals. As if the gods themselves wept for the loss of him. The casket wasn’t even two feet long. The wood looked dull, even with the raindrops glistening atop it. I kneeled in the mud, my hair dripping water as quickly as my eyes. I reached down to touch it as it lowered, the last time I would touch my son.
Funeral. The word hits me with full force. I knew you inside and out. Now you are gone. Forever in the stars to shine as bright as you did on Earth. I will miss more than anyone will know.
Brittany
i didn’t go to his funeral, even though i had harbored strong feelings for him for a long time.
i regret what didn’t happen between us, when it had every chance to.
i regret not going . . .
but i didn’t want to believe he was gone.
Death is near, Death is coming. Death is here, so no use running? The only thing to say when facing Death is, “Not today.”
death, John, missing him, loss of protection
I stare blankly at this word.
Funeral.
Words cannot describe the lack of emotion that runs through me.
My mind runs blank.
Please, don’t make me remember.
Please, just let me forget.
The funeral was sad, rainy, black. The shots were fired. Then again. Then the soldiers folded the flag into a perfect triangle and handed it to the weeping mother.
I was leaning on an elm tree, looking over the mass of black robes and veils. The white marble tombstone of my grandfather was haunting me in my mind. I never got to say goodbye to him. Without noticing it, tears were rolling down my cheeks silently.
“Goodbye, Grandpa…” I whispered.
My mother ushered me out of the funeral and opened the car door for me. I sat there with my hands covering my face, unable to look at the view outside again.
i think of death and dying. but when you do ill sprinkle your ashes over carpinteria. i promise. and we’ll all wear white and play stevie nicks, just like you asked. you will die some day, but you’ll never be forgotten.
Ive only really been to two wakes in my life and have never been to a real funeral. But I guess I consider a real funeral to be when a coffin is buried into the ground. I feel like I’m not good in these types of situations because everyone is crying around me and i’m not much of a cryer at funerals, well then again ?i wouldn;t know.
death. there’s something oddly comforting about seeing all the people there. all mourning the same person. it unites them. they enjoy it as much as I, hopefully. weddings, now those are depressing.
The saddness swelled all around me as i stood all alone at your funeral. What could have ever happened to lead me to this dreadful place? The fact that you were dead, and I would never again kiss your sweet lips without the cold kiss of death on them first. Your funeral was some place I never wanted to be. I had be to so many before, but the feeling in the pit of my stomach was like nothing I had ever felt before. Was it because you were my first love? Or because you were the first person to kill yourself that I knew. I think it was both, but as i stood at your funeral, I could feel a part of me hating you; my heart welled with pain and I needed someone to blame. You seemed like the best option, because it was your fault, right? Then why did part of me feel it was my fault? When did we decide that you dying was part of our plan? We had so many things set for our future, but that didn’t include me dressed in black, carrying your casket to the grave.
Wow, really, funeral? That’s not what I was expecting. Funeral makes me think of my grandfather’s funeral, which makes me glad because it was a miracle that I even got to see him before he passed away of cancer, and I praise God for that opportunity. So yeah, funerals can be happy
We went to his funeral twenty days later. It was a sad affair. No one really understood the entirety of the situation until they saw his lifeless corpse laying in the coffin before them. His mother was weeping in the front row, her eyes a red abyss under her dark glasses.
My grandmother’s funeral was the first open casket funeral I had ever been to. I refused to look at her dead body up close; I only chanced glances from across the room. I think my father was offended I didn’t say my final “Goodbyes.” He didn’t know that I had said them long ago while her spirit was still there.
Funeral, a place of death, wreaking of decay, a time known for sadness. It makes you forget that for all the death you’re thinking about, the only dead thing there, is the corpse. You are all alive.
She wasn’t mourning, she thought, the death of her grandmother’s life, but rather the diminishing of it. The state of dying as a result of the state of living. How youth and laughter slipped away into old bones and laugh lines.
The first time I went to a funeral, I was thirteen going on fourteen. My grandfather had just passed away after a heart attack, and it was one of the worst experiences of my life. I remember going up to the casket to see him, his face looking strange and rubbery, fake with a giant smile spread across his lips. I remember kissing his forehead and saying goodbye.
The only other thing I remember were his hands. His hands were often swollen at the joints from arthritis, but there on that day, they were smooth. They looked pain free. Somehow, that brought me a tiny bit of solace.
Inside us, woe.
Behind us, funeral march.
It was sunny, so sunny and bright I couldn’t stand the black wool clinging to me. Everyone cried, I could not. How can we cry for the people we have not truly known? I wished to know her, but the hourglass was tipped and the remaining grains of sand were drained.
death, loss, sadness, mourning, people at a funeral gathering drink wine and sit around in awkward crowds. No one really wants to be there
So the other day I went to a funeral dressed in yellow. People thought I looked weird. I don’t think the dead person minded much, for he couldn’t see my clothes. I think he felt my presents. He was glad I was there and I was happy that he was no longer on this earth. 94 years is long enough.
every time i go to the funeral i cry. i know its for me but still i just cant stand it. i cant breathe staring down at myself its awful. everyone is crying , crying. I hate that i am hurting so many people. but it was for the beat. really i just ended up hurting more people than i was helping. killing myself was the best way out of this all. the knife against my skin just felt so right at the moment so serene.
A stale, unnatural icky occasion.
There’s nothing meaningful anyone
can really say or do.
Funerals should be held in silence,
No talking,
Except for cries, sniffles
Or the ocassional nose blow.
I like watching the hugs, hand holding
and a sincere back rub.
Sadness, there is mourning. There is no justice, no help, no way to get over it. But you just must let go. Because if you love something, it will someday break your heart.
My uncle’s funeral was sad. Everybody either cried, sang, or couldn’t cry any longer. He was a great man. I miss him. May he rest in peace.
I haven’t been to a funeral in a long time. In fact, I think the last one was my uncle’s when I was fifteen. No wait, two of my high school classmates lost their fathers not too long ago. i went to the wake for one but the funeral of the other. it was tragic to see someone so young going through that. Now that it’s been several years since high school, we’re reaching the age where more and more classmates are starting to lose parents. It gets one thinking about one’s own mortality.
I sat, looking outside my window, watching as they took my grandfather’s casket away. Grandpa; the only man I’d ever cared for. Ever loved. Ever trusted.
The hot tears streamed down my face as I took a deep breath. In. Out.
My cousin Annie touched my shoulder.
“It’ll be okay.”
“No,” I breathed. “No.”
It will never be okay again.
I wiped my eyes and collapsed onto the floor.
Funerals are very sad, often associated with crying. Especially death. One day I will have a funeral. I hope no one will cry and everyone will be happy. For eternity. I dread my parents’s funeral; my sister’s as well.
It was a unique experience. I could hear them all milling about like creepers at an orphanage, and you want to know what I thought? The only thing I thought? What did they care about me in death if they couldn’t muster care in life? It was QUITE unique.
“Yeah, well, when I’m at your funeral I’ll wink as I throw the rose in and whisper ‘I told you so’ over your corpse, yeah?”
They’d never had a fight like this before. They were best friends, so of course they had their ups and downs, but…not like this.
Once there was A funeral. Only instead of people wearing black, they were all dressed in the most colorful clothes you could ever think of and there will be baloons and fun gifts for everyone to pass to each other and instead of mourning a good life, we will celebrate it.
sadness. losing someone you loved. joy because they are going to be with God! And joy because I know I will see them again. but still unsure because some people who die you don’t know how their relationship is with God. But thats between them and God.
A loss to gain life
Joy in mourning
you hold your mother’s pearlnuts in your latent hands
and hesitate to tread
beyond the licorice trimmings
of your hospital gown,
the buttons down your back making lower case D’s
that manage to stutter what you cannot
concerning weightlessness
that far away feeling
where you never return from.
the eyes you stare but do not look with
are empty styrofoam cup dregs–
direct translation for the storage of words
floating in the distension of your stomach
like burning books you can mold into
She cried. Like no one had ever seen before. She wailed and screamed. I didnt expect this. when I killed him I didnt expect anyone to care. Let alone myself. While I cried and everyone whispered about me, and what they all knew I did, I died with him, I unintentionally committed suicide.
a body with no soul is a weird thing to behold. and tears are for those remaining, i suppose.
The asphalt was cold today. And with the sun shining brightly and no cars to be seen, I felt it wasn’t right. There was no one to smell the scentless stale air or hear the soundless noise.
The only thing I can remember is my funeral. Where am I?
My mother is going to a funeral tomorrow. I feel awkward not going with, I guess. But why should I? I didn’t like the man. She knew it, he knew it. I suppose it would be awkward if I went. What would I do? Cry? I feel horrible saying it but really, I don’t think I would. Even the worst of men die.
She was dead I didn’t understand why, but it hurt. Being my mother for so long had made her special, I suppose…
It was raining. It always seems to be raining at funerals. As if the gods themselves wept for the loss of him. The casket wasn’t even two feet long. The wood looked dull, even with the raindrops glistening atop it. I kneeled in the mud, my hair dripping water as quickly as my eyes. I reached down to touch it as it lowered, the last time I would touch my son.
don’t come to my funeral
Funeral. The word hits me with full force. I knew you inside and out. Now you are gone. Forever in the stars to shine as bright as you did on Earth. I will miss more than anyone will know.
i didn’t go to his funeral, even though i had harbored strong feelings for him for a long time.
i regret what didn’t happen between us, when it had every chance to.
i regret not going . . .
but i didn’t want to believe he was gone.