This assignment really allowed me to ponder over my life and think about how I have lived, and how I want to live from this point forward. Writing my eulogy did not unsettle my nerves, but it did give me a sense of purpose. Through writing this, I realized that some of the most “important” aspects of my life are really not that important when looking at the bigger picture. I think writing a eulogy can lead to depression for some people, but writing my eulogy was not depressing for me at all. After this assignment, I would recommend everyone write out what they want said about their lives when they
When my sister and I were little, he taught us how to paint with oils on smooth pieces of wood, instructing us on how to blend colors or make certain brush strokes, telling us that "there are no straight lines in nature," to help us paint better trees.
The obituary assignment is not about what you would write or whom else would write in a section of a newspaper on page ten, but about the life you live at this very moment, are you happy where you are or just barley living. I am barely living or more so a puppet. I live for others and not myself. I want to live my life full of excitement and happiness, which I have never felt. Visiting other countries, tasting food from other cultures, appreciating nature, and the world around me with joy not hatred. I have been shown and told of a world that only has hatred, war, money and hunger. I no longer want to live a life where I lock myself in my room to afraid to go into the real world and experience the good it could offer. Not only do I want to experience the good in the world, but the good within myself as
Eulogy for Son William was a very special person. His good qualities are endless. Since he was just a child, I always remember William sticking up for the family. When his sister, Lisa, was a baby, William would sit outside her room with a mask and cape on, ready to rescue her in case she started crying. And, if William’s father or I were making too much noise, he was always quick to fly downstairs and tell us to keep quiet so as not to disturb his little sister.
I have a picture of him and me smiling like a pair of goofs hidden sound and safe in between the pages of my one of my favorites books. I don’t have the courage to look at it. The thought of missing him even more terrifies me as much as it draws me in with hopes of reviving, once again, the memories of that day. No, our relationship isn’t over. We didn’t break up.
Yesterday, as Martin's friends poured into town, I was struck by how many distinct sets of friends he had. Family, skaters, punks, his Swampland posse, his boys and his girls, Professors, colleagues, Ann Arbor friends, Chicago friends, cyberspace friends who'd never met him "in the flesh"... Trying to walk down the street with him was an exercise in frustration, as Martin's fans flocked to him like the Pied Piper. He was so much, to so many. One of his greatest gifts to us is each other.
Well this is what it looked like burying my son only if words could describe the pain I had really felt well they'd be here but no nothing could explain how I felt standing around looking at everyone standing there in black. Well this is what it looked like burying my son only if words could describe the pain I had really felt well they'd be here but no nothing could explain how I felt standing around looking at everyone standing there in black
Oh Bryce oh Bryce. The things we’ve been through. The pictures of you holding me as a baby, from wearing costumes 24/7, to taking a picture every first day of school for mom, to living in two different homes, then having another little brother, then moving 6 more times before Mom and Tony found a real place the can call home, to jamming out in your car, to me sitting here writing this letter for you because you’re graduating. We’ve definitely had our down times, like when I threw your DS at you cause I was mad, or when you slapped me across the face cause I gave you an attitude and I ran into the woods crying. But we’ve had the ability to grow a lot closer than we were 3 years ago. We’ve matured enough to realize our differences and
Located in a forest, was a park my dad had taken me to for a space of around two years. In the summer it was lush and virescent, the full trees bringing shade and fabricating new mountains to scale. The winter was beautifully barren and had seemed to be as clear as crystalline ice, reflecting the beauty around every surface. All year the park was feigning beauty and then mocking the word in which it was described. It held everything that could possibly make a child happy, including the beaming, champagne colored ice cream truck. Even the champagne was pretending to be beautiful; the color peeled off in feathers of paint as if the truck was pluming for everyone’s entertainment. My father got me an ice cream every time we went, which more or
Hello Mr. Gill, honestly now, she knows that’s so wicked, immoral, dishonest, and I’m sorry to hear this has happened to you. Well, getting to know a person requires much more than the time it requires some praying about that person first before making a commitment. I’m sorry to that has happened to you. Because no one deserves to be treated so awful and wrong, but you know that the seeds you sow will come back to you. I know I kept reading that you were no longer single and were off the dating market. Mr. Gill, I have never met you in person, but I was so hurt. You have a million ladies who were crying :) Sometimes I ask myself how is it possible for me to fall in love with your voice. I’ve had a very bad day at work; students wanted to
In my eyes heroes don’t have to be rich or famous, they can be everyday people like your Mom! No, she can’t fly or have a cape, but my mom makes sure I’m safe, and works so we can have a roof over our heads. My mom is giving, loving, caring, and all of the above! So let's think who takes you to school every morning, takes you to games, and makes sure you are where you need to be, well my mom does,she is amazing I wouldn't trade her for anything!
I have so many things to say about you so please forgive me if this “letter” is a mess. Thank you for being my dad, and really defining what that word should mean. Any male can become a father/dad, but that does not mean they are a good one. There are countless things that make you a wonderful father--big and small. You get me water whenever I want, you don’t lie to me, you’re always an ear to listen.