Narrative Essay On Funeral Home
On October 9th, 2013, my Grandmother died from cancer. Two days later we were at the funeral home a couple of minutes away from her house in urban Philadelphia. When we got out of our car I felt a strong brisk of wind and a cold chilling sense down my spine, “This isn’t going to be a good day.” I thought to myself and walked up the ramp and into the funeral home. I immediately noticed an overwhelming smell. Like elders and salt, probably from the tears that were shed here. I looked around and walked over to the waiting room, the TV was previewing photos of her getting older throughout the years and played her favorite band faintly, ABBA. After the compilation of photos ended, it was time to go into her room. I soon noticed that the curtains let in beams of light through the small design on the top corners and the middle, forging a cross. They shined brightly, it looked like the light beams were telling us that heaven was fetching her soul from her body, as my mother said. Later, we hastily, but bitterly went through the process of all her daughters (my aunts) and her brother (my great uncle) saying their goodbyes
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” Nate, your Grandmom has chosen you, Uncle Walt, and your other uncles to be her pallbearers.” In her will, she listed me as one of them that she inclined for me to have this part in her inhumation. However, I didn't want to be one because it would make me even more taken down about her death, but I thought of what she asked for and endorsed her decision.
“Sure Mom, but what is that?” I questioned.
“ A pallbearer is someone who carries the casket over to the hearse, out of the eharse, and to the grave.” She explained. “Do you still want to do it?” She asked again.
“Mom, if she wants me to do it, then sure.” I promised to her that I would.
“Thanks honey,” she cooed as she hugged me
” Nate, your Grandmom has chosen you, Uncle Walt, and your other uncles to be her pallbearers.” In her will, she listed me as one of them that she inclined for me to have this part in her inhumation. However, I didn't want to be one because it would make me even more taken down about her death, but I thought of what she asked for and endorsed her decision.
“Sure Mom, but what is that?” I questioned.
“ A pallbearer is someone who carries the casket over to the hearse, out of the eharse, and to the grave.” She explained. “Do you still want to do it?” She asked again.
“Mom, if she wants me to do it, then sure.” I promised to her that I would.
“Thanks honey,” she cooed as she hugged me