I celebrated my fathers birthday yesterday in my mind knowing if he were alive today, he would have been 86. It is hard to believe it has been over a year now since his funeral.
I never really knew the guy, myself. He was quiet, and he didn’t ask for much. Generally speaking, i think it’s fair to say that when he needed something he’d just take care of it himself and then tell me about it later. As far as gay sons go, it could have been worse.
What a coincidence. Today, I heard that my aunt’s father passed away. Funeral. Wow. I hate them. There’s something so sobering and sad about it. It should be celebration of a life and the end of it some people say. But I think, that it’s more a farewell for the living than a celebration for the dead. The bells toll, joss sticks are lit, and everyone is in black kneeling in front of the coffin to pay respects.
an event to celebrate the life of a friend or family member who has passed away. formalities are vital and traditions and rituals remain the same for hundreds of years. a religous, sad and comedic occasion for all.
She tried not to cry. She really did. It was strange. All these people with furrowed brows and downturned heads. She didn’t want to show weakness in front of them though she had every right to.
Only when the bird crows five times will she wake up again. Only then will she join our world of the dark and the magic. But until then let us enjoy the funeral.
death life joy peace heaven hell reincarntaion happiness. the death of susan was the greatest celebration, not because she was evil but because life was evil towards her she had lived a kla
The beat of raindrops on leaves was her funeral dirge: comforting yet eerily quiet. Laughable squelches from peoples shoes kept breaking the hush, and my stomach kept contracting in the effort not to laugh.
there was my dads funeral yesterday, outside of the graveyard there was a bum selling crack who started to sing something about the end of the world, everyone followed him until the cops took him out.
My sister Sara, she left too soon. not nearly as white as a funeral should be, white, in the way of heaven or such…of course every one is dressed in black, including me. It was shorter than I expect
I just did this one. I’m tired of thinking about black, dark, claustrophobic collections of people who care for the dead in such varying degrees. We have lived. Within and without the circle of this person’s heart. Now what is the true shame?
she never got used to the idea of living in a funeral home, there was always a sense of fear that came with each new body brought in. the last funeral that was held in the house ended with a gang fight and a murder. There were many spirits that lurked in the house and her powers were triggered now more than ever.
Goodbye. Don’t worry. I’m not in here. Not anymore. I am without love. I am without life, hope, sadness. I am without all. I am beyond. I am unknown. I am no more. I am without ‘I’.
my funeral? i dont want to die. i want to see the world. i want to really live. i hate thinking about death and people dying. why cant we live forever? my family means so much to me, i never want to see them go. i want a life fillled w
I have only been to a few. I don’t like the word though. It reminds me of shiny wooden coffins. The coffin is closed and you know underneath there is someone there.
It was a cold morn. Perfect for a funeral. It was drab and I woke up with a cold sweat, covered in cold sheets. I pondered as to whether to iron my clothes, and for a moment I had forgotten whose funeral it was. If it was my mothers. Then I would. A blacksuit, ironed, without crease is perfect for masking sadness, but letting the world know you are sad.
I wonder will he be there
At my funeral
Will he cry
His blue eyes red
His frame weak as it is lean
Will he fold his strong arms
apoligeticly,unknowingly
Or will he sit at the back
Quietly
Pretending once again
That he doesn’t really care.
I was flustered as I heard the sign of church bells, signaling that there was going to be a funeral soon. I grabbed my pitchfork, and ran to the church with my chance. I was eager to see whose body I could be stashing today.
Death, inevitable is often topped off with a funeral. The dreaded word of most families, relatives, friends. It is the sea of black, the slap in the face of reality. You wish it never happens, because it truly means the end.
Death is all around, nothing is better than the black which seems to be surronding everyone, there was one word no one wanted to mention and that was what this was called, a funeral, yet I didn’t see this as a time to be sad over the loss of someone but to be enjoying the momories of them and how they changed my life.
I have never been to funeral. I hope I don’t have to any time soon. Sure, funerals are full of sorrow, and though I do not believe in heaven, I see hope in them. I see that though we have death, we have life. Though one person may die, another lives on. And though we carry that grief with us, we can use what that person taught us forever in our lives. They may be gone, but not forgotten.
I was seven when I attended my first funeral. It was my uncle’s. A year after, my aunt died. I didn’t know either of them very well but I cried at both. I was an emotional kid. I guess it translates into adulthood.
I was once at a funeral. it was a grand thing, with lot’s o people crying, but i couldn’t feel sad. i don’t know why but it was almost like i wasn’t there.. i was just watching. why does dying have to be sad? you get to go to some place different, have a new adventure. that sounds pretty okay with me. i mean, i am not saying i want to dyi
Arcade Fire’s debut full length album, Funeral, was released to the public today. Reviews have largely been positive. I see this as the beginning of a new age of Canadian music.
I’d tell you that I was devestated, but at that time I couldn’t feel anything. The priest spoke mundane words of passing from a far-off place, each mourner somehow floating outside of my time plane.
I didn’t understand what was happening. I couldn’t grasp it, death? What does that mean? Everyone here is crying, so death makes people cry? Should I be crying?
After the procession crowds of solemn, empathetic faces speak kind words. They apologize for my loss, they offer time and money, all I do is stare at them, confused. “Sorry?” Should I forgive them? What are they apologizing for?
Still, I return every hug and give thanks for every uplifting word, yet I’m still in auto-pilot and I can’t really feel a thing.
When we were small and our pets died, we would have a funeral. We would bury them in the back yard and say our prayers and goodbyes. Today, we bury our feelings.
Before we even got to the chapel I burst into tears. i remember my list conversation with her … it wasn’t good. Now she was gone and I didn’t even get a chance to laugh with her one more time. I cried so hard that day. For her, for me, for him.
Usually sad times, but not always as I could think of a couple of people who as harsh as it seems, I would prefer not to be around. I think its stupid how it is assumed you have to wear black to a funeral, because DUH you want you life to be celebrated don’t you?! So when I pass quietly in my sleep as an old lady, wise and spitting on the pavements, I want to have people wear lots of colour to my funeral…oh and please play Red Hot Chili Peppers-Slow Cheetah…its a personal favourite.
Funeral. Um, been to two, for grandparents. Didn’t know them that well. Never been to one for anyone I was really close to. But I’m not close to many people, you know. God I hate my life. I hate myself. I hate my brain, my forever alone.
I celebrated my fathers birthday yesterday in my mind knowing if he were alive today, he would have been 86. It is hard to believe it has been over a year now since his funeral.
I never really knew the guy, myself. He was quiet, and he didn’t ask for much. Generally speaking, i think it’s fair to say that when he needed something he’d just take care of it himself and then tell me about it later. As far as gay sons go, it could have been worse.
What a coincidence. Today, I heard that my aunt’s father passed away. Funeral. Wow. I hate them. There’s something so sobering and sad about it. It should be celebration of a life and the end of it some people say. But I think, that it’s more a farewell for the living than a celebration for the dead. The bells toll, joss sticks are lit, and everyone is in black kneeling in front of the coffin to pay respects.
Don’t cry at my funeral.
an event to celebrate the life of a friend or family member who has passed away. formalities are vital and traditions and rituals remain the same for hundreds of years. a religous, sad and comedic occasion for all.
She tried not to cry. She really did. It was strange. All these people with furrowed brows and downturned heads. She didn’t want to show weakness in front of them though she had every right to.
but i already did this, remember? the one about the bum sellin crack at my fathers’ funeral? is this the only word you have? c’mon.
Only when the bird crows five times will she wake up again. Only then will she join our world of the dark and the magic. But until then let us enjoy the funeral.
death life joy peace heaven hell reincarntaion happiness. the death of susan was the greatest celebration, not because she was evil but because life was evil towards her she had lived a kla
Funeral party, my grandpa and 6 year old cousin, black, wonderland, crying, Bones
The beat of raindrops on leaves was her funeral dirge: comforting yet eerily quiet. Laughable squelches from peoples shoes kept breaking the hush, and my stomach kept contracting in the effort not to laugh.
there was my dads funeral yesterday, outside of the graveyard there was a bum selling crack who started to sing something about the end of the world, everyone followed him until the cops took him out.
My sister Sara, she left too soon. not nearly as white as a funeral should be, white, in the way of heaven or such…of course every one is dressed in black, including me. It was shorter than I expect
A celebration of someone’s life at their death. The passing of a loved one
I just did this one. I’m tired of thinking about black, dark, claustrophobic collections of people who care for the dead in such varying degrees. We have lived. Within and without the circle of this person’s heart. Now what is the true shame?
sad dead depressing mom cars old people dirt arcade fire grave cemetery 6 feet black traffic caravan
she never got used to the idea of living in a funeral home, there was always a sense of fear that came with each new body brought in. the last funeral that was held in the house ended with a gang fight and a murder. There were many spirits that lurked in the house and her powers were triggered now more than ever.
Goodbye. Don’t worry. I’m not in here. Not anymore. I am without love. I am without life, hope, sadness. I am without all. I am beyond. I am unknown. I am no more. I am without ‘I’.
my funeral? i dont want to die. i want to see the world. i want to really live. i hate thinking about death and people dying. why cant we live forever? my family means so much to me, i never want to see them go. i want a life fillled w
I have only been to a few. I don’t like the word though. It reminds me of shiny wooden coffins. The coffin is closed and you know underneath there is someone there.
It was a cold morn. Perfect for a funeral. It was drab and I woke up with a cold sweat, covered in cold sheets. I pondered as to whether to iron my clothes, and for a moment I had forgotten whose funeral it was. If it was my mothers. Then I would. A blacksuit, ironed, without crease is perfect for masking sadness, but letting the world know you are sad.
I wonder will he be there
At my funeral
Will he cry
His blue eyes red
His frame weak as it is lean
Will he fold his strong arms
apoligeticly,unknowingly
Or will he sit at the back
Quietly
Pretending once again
That he doesn’t really care.
sad at heart
Its about an event in which the family and relatives lament on the lost of the dear one.
I was flustered as I heard the sign of church bells, signaling that there was going to be a funeral soon. I grabbed my pitchfork, and ran to the church with my chance. I was eager to see whose body I could be stashing today.
Death, inevitable is often topped off with a funeral. The dreaded word of most families, relatives, friends. It is the sea of black, the slap in the face of reality. You wish it never happens, because it truly means the end.
sad. death. black. scary. ugh. memories. tears. love. forgiveness. family. friends. flowers. casket. missing people. hugs. closeness. heaven. horror. movies. remembering. fear.
Death is all around, nothing is better than the black which seems to be surronding everyone, there was one word no one wanted to mention and that was what this was called, a funeral, yet I didn’t see this as a time to be sad over the loss of someone but to be enjoying the momories of them and how they changed my life.
I have never been to funeral. I hope I don’t have to any time soon. Sure, funerals are full of sorrow, and though I do not believe in heaven, I see hope in them. I see that though we have death, we have life. Though one person may die, another lives on. And though we carry that grief with us, we can use what that person taught us forever in our lives. They may be gone, but not forgotten.
I was seven when I attended my first funeral. It was my uncle’s. A year after, my aunt died. I didn’t know either of them very well but I cried at both. I was an emotional kid. I guess it translates into adulthood.
it was a tragic funeral. The disformed body of Sam lay in its mahogony coffin as the long slow procession of mourners filed past.
Why oh why did it happen John?
“i’m coming up only to hold you under.”
– Band Of Horses, The Funeral
death, sadness, old man, dirt, nothing, wedding, movies, supernatural
I was once at a funeral. it was a grand thing, with lot’s o people crying, but i couldn’t feel sad. i don’t know why but it was almost like i wasn’t there.. i was just watching. why does dying have to be sad? you get to go to some place different, have a new adventure. that sounds pretty okay with me. i mean, i am not saying i want to dyi
Arcade Fire’s debut full length album, Funeral, was released to the public today. Reviews have largely been positive. I see this as the beginning of a new age of Canadian music.
I’d tell you that I was devestated, but at that time I couldn’t feel anything. The priest spoke mundane words of passing from a far-off place, each mourner somehow floating outside of my time plane.
I didn’t understand what was happening. I couldn’t grasp it, death? What does that mean? Everyone here is crying, so death makes people cry? Should I be crying?
After the procession crowds of solemn, empathetic faces speak kind words. They apologize for my loss, they offer time and money, all I do is stare at them, confused. “Sorry?” Should I forgive them? What are they apologizing for?
Still, I return every hug and give thanks for every uplifting word, yet I’m still in auto-pilot and I can’t really feel a thing.
When we were small and our pets died, we would have a funeral. We would bury them in the back yard and say our prayers and goodbyes. Today, we bury our feelings.
Before we even got to the chapel I burst into tears. i remember my list conversation with her … it wasn’t good. Now she was gone and I didn’t even get a chance to laugh with her one more time. I cried so hard that day. For her, for me, for him.
Usually sad times, but not always as I could think of a couple of people who as harsh as it seems, I would prefer not to be around. I think its stupid how it is assumed you have to wear black to a funeral, because DUH you want you life to be celebrated don’t you?! So when I pass quietly in my sleep as an old lady, wise and spitting on the pavements, I want to have people wear lots of colour to my funeral…oh and please play Red Hot Chili Peppers-Slow Cheetah…its a personal favourite.
Funeral. Um, been to two, for grandparents. Didn’t know them that well. Never been to one for anyone I was really close to. But I’m not close to many people, you know. God I hate my life. I hate myself. I hate my brain, my forever alone.