Personal Narrative: My First Non-Christian Funeral

Death is not so light a concept as to glance off of those it does not take. Oftentimes, when death claims someone close to you, it seems easy to fall into a lethargic pit of despair, contenting oneself only to dwell on the morose incontrollable nature of the universe. I know I felt this way, especially with the guilt laid upon me with the death of my brother. I do not claim to know anyone else’s grief, or to know the best way for anyone to deal with the loss of such a beloved girl. I do know, however, that “when you lose something you love, faith takes over” (Tan 2166). It is in these darkest of times that the light of strong faith shines through, comforting those left in the wake of tragedy. I believe that faith, no matter how hidden or denied, can usher even the most bereaved into a better state.

My partner’s father, not long past his 75th birthday, lay in the bed gasping for air; his one good eye unfocused and I noticed that the for the first time in the ten years that I had known him the TV was off. We had been left alone after the care home staff had called us in urgently - their experience in End of Life Care meant they knew what was coming and they had prepared us for it. For me it was the first time, my

“Whatever’s there to feel, feel it – the riddance, the relief, the fright and freedom, the fear of forgetting, the dull ache of your own mortality. Get with someone you can trust with tears, with anger, and wonderment and utter silence. Get that part done – the sooner the better. The only way around these things is through them.” (Lynch) These words were written by both an undertaker and a poet. Thomas Lynch spent much of his time around the grieving families and saw what affects followed in deaths wake. When a loss occurs, it is entirely normal to grieve in response. Many people grieve in similar patterns and with similar emotions. However, as individual human beings, people all handle grief, like anything else, a little differently. Grieving is not just emotional, and depending on the person, it can affect them physically as well. Loss affects everyone in some way and there are clearly similarities between how people handle the grief, however, some are more self-destructive than others.

In Dierdre Sullivan’s powerful essay, ‘Always Go to the Funeral’ she discusses the the importance of going to funerals. Sullivan remarks in her essay that funeral attendance hold an important philosophy, which is do the right thing even if it’s an inconveniance for you. Sullivan explains that these small gestures, like attending a funeral, could have little meaning for us, but could carry a significant importance for someone else. This meaningful message is one we could all relate to, always go to the funeral.

It was April 2016 when we were sitting at the dinner table late at night with our family friends. My mom’s phone began to ring. When I saw her reaction, I knew immediately. Her face was pale and she held her hand to her head in disbelief. I knew it was grandpa. Although we knew the death of my grandpa was coming, I never actually wanted to experience the loss. I stood in front of the mirror, staring at myself, crying continuously.

Both Joe and Tea Cake’s funerals are representative of how they lived as people. Joe constantly exuded an aura of power and dominance and made people respect him. As a result, he was seen as a god-like figure by many and in a sense was impossible to relate to. The imagery of “[p]eople on farm horses and mules; babies riding astride of brothers ' and sisters ' backs” (88) makes it seem as though they are going on a religious pilgrimage rather than grieving over a loved one. By mentioning how the “expensive black folds” of the coffin “were resurrection and life” Joe may be likened to Jesus in how he was resurrected after three days of being killed (88). However, although many idolized him, Janie did not feel remorse during the funeral. Rather,

Everyone had the same pain I had--losing a great person. Outside, the rain pattered lightly down as if it were my tears on my face. Like my grandmother’s last few breaths, I huffed and puffed profusely at my grandmother’s funeral; the clouds gathered. The bright flashes of lightning crashed down on Earth as I yelled at my withered-looking grandmother. And thunder diluted the “sorry for your losses”, “it’ll get betters”, and “you’ll get through these.” My mind went numb during the service.

How would you respond if you were diagnosed with HIV? Address hope and fear in your response. Be sure to refer to the GCU introduction and the textbooks. Cite references from your reading to support your answer.

Once we got there, we basically just spent a week with my grandmother, then the funeral. I would say that the hardest time I’ve ever cried was during my grandfather’s funeral. That week was one of the most emotional weeks of my life. I also learned a lot about my grandfather. A lot of his relatives like his cousins and siblings were at the funeral. Most of them I had never met before. I’ve learned a lot of lessons from that experience as well. The cause of my grandfather's death wasn’t ever

Each and every time my mother responded either by doing what I asked, like cuddling with me, or by answering my questions and saying, “You were deathly allergic to an antibiotic they gave you. You can’t leave just yet. Who’s Brunner? You missed the volleyball game last night and the girls are worried about you. Today’s Friday Jocey. You missed two days of school. Ryan had to go home because he had school today. He wanted to stay, but he knew you would be angry if he didn’t go to school.”

“We found him last night, Jason. He was just lying there and we thought he was asleep,” explained Mrs. Witt, bawling her eyes out.

My Day of the Dead project is inspired by someone that I knew and sadly died a tragic death. Her name was Pamela Graddick. She was twenty-six years old and was like older sister to me. She was murdered about four years ago and there has been no justice for her. Pamela has knew me her whole life. She was my sisters best friend and always looked out for me. When she went missing I was kinda young and naive at the time so I thought that she was going to be found, just like on TV. But this is real life and her body was found in a trash bag in Yonkers NY. Pam never got the justice that she deserved, but she was dearly loved. Pam was happy and thriving before she was murdered. Someone took a great person out of this world. So my day of the dead project

Before I discuss my experience at Grace Lutheran Church I feel it would be beneficial to explain my Church Background, so that you can better understand my outsider view of the Sunday morning worship Service I attended. I have been raised in the Baptist/Southern Baptist church my entire life. My parents are from South Carolina, which is also where I grew up, so our idea of Church has always been a small community with a very relaxed atmosphere. I stopped attending the Baptists church when I was 16. I chose to join Bent-tree Bible Fellowship, a non-denominational church. I attended this church for about 2 years when I started my sophomore year at DBU and was offered a position in children’s ministry at First Baptist Colleyville. Bent-tree and FBC were the two largest churches I have been a part of both between 3,000-5,000 in total Sunday attendance. Both follow the same basic order of service. Begin around 11am with 10-15 minutes of worship singing, then announcements, followed by an special aspect of the service like a video a special song etc.… The sermon lasts about 25-35 minutes and we close with prayer and one final worship song. Again all the churches I have ever attended have been very relaxed, shorts

I watched my mother fade away slowly as she was battling pancreatic cancer. I looked after her everyday as best as I could; however, the feeling of my eventual solitude was unbearable.The thought of my mother’s imminent demise made me feel like my heart was being continuously stabbed. Watching my mother suffer was one of the hardest things I have ever had to go through. After her passing; something changed in me, darkness filled where love once was. I always knew deep down, that my mum was not going to make it; however, knowing this did not make it any easier.

The term “anonymous minister” means that there is an unspoken and close connection between nursing and spirituality. Among all the nurses interviewed, many of them saw their professions as a calling from a higher power. For example on page 78, Catherine who has been a nurse for 25 years states” I see nursing as a spiritual vocation. It is much more than work; I find it a way of serving”. Being messenger of Good Faith is a characteristic that I found very appealing. This is the kind of nurse I hope to be. I want to be there for my patients with my faith during the hardest times. Also I want to help them understands that God is wonderful and he is always present among us.