Before I can merge back onto the freeway, Thomas appears on the side of the road. He has his thumb pointed upwards, like he is hitchhiking. I pick him up. He laughs. I laugh, but I feel sad afterwards. My father calls and asks me where I am. He says the funeral is in ten hours. I tell him I am in New Mexico and I will be there in time. When he asks me how the eulogy is coming Thomas rolls his eyes. I consider several different first lines for my mother’s eulogy: My mother was always seeking out quiet moments. My mother never hurt anybody on purpose. I wish I could have known my mother better. Thomas says that none of those lines are any good, that I might as well begin the eulogy with, “My mother was a spineless bitch.” He asks me to tell …show more content…
A young girl in the store asks me if I need any help. I tell her I am looking for a black dress to wear to my mother’s funeral. She says she is sorry and since it is Spring they don’t have many black dresses. The only one they have costs four hundred dollars. Thomas mouths “four hundred dollars.” I tell him I will return it after the funeral. It is velour and it feels soft on my skin. I ask the salesgirl if I can wear the dress out of the store. She looks at me oddly, but she says she doesn’t see why I couldn’t. After she leaves, Thomas says I look beautiful. He says I will be the best-dressed girl at the party. “Funeral,” I correct …show more content…
They are laughing and smiling at one another. I tell Thomas I wish he could come inside with me. I tell him I don’t want to face these people alone. Thomas says that he will be here for me when it is over, that this is something I have to do myself. He winks at me; he tells me that I am strong. I park the car, when I stand, my limbs feel heavy and my eyesight is blurry. I think about my mother, who will sleep forever. When my father sees me, he cries. I touch his shoulder and stare at the space between my fingers. There is lint on his suit. He says that he loves me. My sister demands, “Aren’t you going to tell us that you love us?” I look back at Thomas, but he isn’t in the car anymore. Maybe he has gone to score more pot. I try to say something to my sister and father, but I can’t think of much. Terrible things happen to people who say, “I love you,” when they do not mean it. My boyfriend tells me that sometimes I get stuck in my head. I text my boyfriend. I tell him I have arrived in California. I tell him that I think I am safe. I ask him if he can talk on the phone. He doesn’t text me
Thomas looks at Victor, smiles, and walks toward him. Proceeding, he says, “Victor, I’m sorry about your father.” (Alexie 2). Victor...
Pretend not to mind that he isn’t going to drive you there in his new, shiny, GMC Avalanche like everyone else's father. Instead drive your beat up, piece of crap car and be okay with it.
This was one of her good days. My mother warned me that she might not know who I was at first.” The attendant doesn’t necessarily openly express her worries but her choice of language reflects her inner emotions.
As we pulled into the parking lot of the funeral home, I felt the knot in my stomach tighten. Just a week ago, my ex-husband Rick, had brought our children back from a fun-filled vacation. They had spent two weeks exploring Tennessee, visiting amusement parks, and flying over the Smokey Mountains. He had brought them back to Ohio, dropped them off at my new house, and had asked to see the dog that my daughter adopted at the humane society. I had taken him to see the dog, she seemed uncomfortable with his presence and growled. Still he had lingered, talking about their trip and his plans for the next time he saw them. The conversation and pleasantries were hard for me to force. Years of living with someone who was manipulative and had abused
Eli continues to stare at me. I drink in his appearance; his dreads all tangled up, his grey and white shirt half of it has dry blood stains. The sweat pants which is grey has some darker blood stains and what look to be in dirt. Even his sneaker laces have a splash of blood stains. I am completely utterly clueless on what to say or what to do.
This is crazy. Why am I afraid? I’m acting as if this is my first funeral. Funerals have become a given, especially with a life like mine, the deaths of my father, my uncle and not my biological mother, you would think I could be somewhat used to them by now. Now I know what you’re thinking, death is all a part of life. But the amount of death that I’ve experienced in my life would make anyone cower away from the thought. This funeral is nothing compared to those unhappy events.
I'd like to talk today about my grandmother, Ruth Smith - about who she was, what she meant to us, and what this day means.
In the process of reading chapter two, I immediately thought back two years ago. I had the worst Stressor. I've had in my only 16 years of living. My great grandmother, who I lived with along with my mother, my whole life. She passed from stomach cancer. September 14 2013, I remember getting out of the shower with a smile on my face, and my grandmother casually walking in and said "Granny died at 2:34 this morning. I'm going to Chicago and I'll come back the day before the funeral. " My family works in the funeral industry but we do not own a funeral home and we have never buried such a close family member of ours. With my Step father and my mother losing their minds, and my little sister not knowing how to process this and my aunt just down right disappearing, I had to handle this. I was 14 at the time and I was calling on older friends to take me to the bank, finishing arrangements, picking clothes, doing the memorial video and the catering because none of my family offered to cook. I was panicking and literally running from place to place because I was trying to get things done. I was eating more and sleeping less, and from
I tuck my hair behind my ear as I gaze into his eyes. “Yes, courtesy of my boss.” Choosing my attire tonight took little effort. I elected for my plain, black silk dress,
It was a Monday night; I remember it like it was yesterday. I had just completed my review of Office Administration in preparation for my final exams. As part of my leisure time, I decided to watch my favorite reality television show, “I love New York,” when the telephone rang. I immediately felt my stomach dropped. The feeling was similar to watching a horror movie reaching its climax. The intensity was swirling in my stomach as if it were the home for the butterflies. My hands began to sweat and I got very nervous. I could not figure out for the life of me why these feelings came around. I lay there on the couch, confused and still, while the rings continued. My dearest mother decided to answer this eerie phone call. As she picked up, I sat straight up. I muted the television in hopes of hearing what the conversation. At approximately three minutes later, the telephone fell from my mother’s hands with her faced drowned in the waves of water coming from her eyes. She cried “Why?” My Grandmother had just died.
It was odd for the first in my life my grandmother and grandfather acted like they had wanted me to be apart of the family and I couldn't help feeling then and now that if they acted like that before I might have been sad that I was leaving them. I was allowed to pick whatever we ate, my grandmother brought the most expensive dress she could find for me wear to go into the water and my cousins made the effort to talk to me that week whenever my aunt Sandy and uncle John brought them to the house. The night before I was due to bathe in the water my aunt Sandy and I walked through the fields near the house. "Promise me Emily you won't throw everything away like April did" aunt Sandy said, I tried to walk in sync with her. "
My grandpa was a treasure hunter. Every Saturday, he woke up before the sun and went in search of the rarest riches. But, then one Saturday he didn't. My mom told me his body got too old and tired. She said he "passed away", which is what grown-ups sometimes say when a person dies.
“I am not sure honey, she was here just a few minutes ago,” Charles replied. Berthe put her hand on her hips and said, “Mommy was supposed to play tea party with me today!” Charles squatted down and took his daughter in his embrace. “Its ok hone, mommy will be back soon I am sure.” He said as he kissed her for head. “Now go play while daddy finishes getting ready.” Berthe hung her head down and walked slowly out of the room.
while, being as he was rushing to Cooper Hospital to see my mother. At this
I believe that every person in, in their own unique way, creates a legacy in their lifetime by which others can live long after that person has left us. For those of us who remain, Mildred Johnson has truly created a legacy to uphold and fulfill in our daily lives. I firmly believe that this carrying out is a true honor and responsibility by means of the various facets that Mildred has made her own.