The exercise:
Let's write about: the funeral.
So. Bad Request Error 400. That's all I got from my repeated attempts to publish yesterday's post late last night. And when I just tried to log in to Blogger this morning before we hit the road. But then when I tried again tonight shortly after we returned, it worked just fine. Argh.
Anyway. Today marks the one year anniversary of our move to Osoyoos. Unfortunately we weren't really able to celebrate it, but hopefully we'll have time to reflect on it a bit more tomorrow.
Also: apparently June 9th was the third anniversary of this here blog. I almost forgot the one and two year anniversaries but managed to remember at the last minute. Not so this year. Oh well, happy belated birthday to you, Daily Writing Practice.
Mine:
It's been a bit of a rough stretch for both of our families recently. Kat lost her grandmother on her mother's side to a heart attack just before we left for our honeymoon in Jamaica, so we were out of the country for her memorial service. Right now my parents are over in New Brunswick for a service for one of my dad's brothers, which I really wish I could have attended.
And today we made the drive up to Kamloops for a service for one of Kat's mom's younger brothers, who passed away after an extended battle with cancer. It was an extremely nice celebration of his life and I'm glad we were able to be there with the rest of Kat's family on her mother's side.
It was only the third funeral I've ever attended, and the first in over ten years. Which is not bad at all, but if timing and logistics had worked out it could have been a lot more than that.
4 comments:
Wow, a slightly more serious tone to your post today than we often have. I'm sticking with my belief that you should have an editorial byline somewhere since you're rather good at this style of writing.
Three funerals in ten years isn't bad at all, but I think the wedding is a much better reason to get together.
The Funeral
The children were all gathered around the deep, rectangular hole that they'd spent all morning digging. At the head of it, Miss Snippet had her head bowed and was holding something in her hands. At last, she lifted her head and threw something made of cloth. It hit the earth with a slightly wet sound.
"Thank-you," she said. "You can start filling it in now."
"What was that?" asked Miss Devonport as Miss Snippet came into the school by the nearby door. "It looked like a grave."
"It was funeral for what's left of my dignity," said Miss Snippet. "After that date last night...."
"Oh!" said Miss Devonport. "Then..."
"Then what?"
"This might not be the right time to tell you," said Miss Devonport pointing, "but that dog retrieved what you threw into the grave."
"My knickers!" screamed Miss Snippet as her dignity disappeared down a dog's throat.
Hey! I've been rereading your archives, and I'm about a third done, but I really wanted to write some. So, here goes nothing!
The Funeral
"What do you mean, suicide? My friend? What?" That was my first reaction when I found out my best friend had died.
The funeral was a bitter affair, with many people showing up, skipping school to come, even though they didn't know him that well, but me?
I knew him like the back of my hand. I'd known him ever since he'd moved here two and a half years before. I'd been the one to hang out with him.
How was I supposed to know he suffered from depression? How was I supposed to know he was on medication for it? How was I supposed to know he didn't want to continue like that?
But the one thing he never knew was how much I'd miss him when he was gone...
The funeral was a bitter affair, and after he was put in his grave, we went home, and I was never the same...
Greg - thank you :)
Ah, poor Miss Snippet. Though I'm not entirely sure she didn't deserve that :P
Andrew - hello and welcome! That's quite the archive to get through, so well done on getting that far already!
I suspect those are the worst kind of funerals to attend, and I think you captured that perfectly.
Looking forward to reading more of your writing here :)
As everybody cries i sit, not one tear. To me there is nothing to cry about just that my farther was killed. My mother seems to be sad but he wasn't much of a farther, i barely saw him. To me he was just a figure.
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