Have you ever had the feeling of complete and udder emptiness, like someone punched a hole in your chest and ripped out your heart? This is the feeling that swept over me as I sat on a hard, brown, wooden pew at my neighbor’s funeral visitation. Honestly I wasn’t even sure if my heart was beating anymore, I felt so dead inside.
All sorts of people wandered into the church. It was packed, I mean wall to wall bodies. There were so many people there that the church ran out of the extra metal folding chairs and people were left standing. The only non-crowded spot in the church was the altar, where the cold, lifeless body of Marilyn Jean Beddow rested in her dark colored coffin.
“Marilyn and her husband Bill have lived next door to my family since before I was even thought of. She was like a grandmother to me. I spent days playing in her lush green yard and running through the sky-high pine trees with her actual granddaughter, Brittney. Every time I came over she would ask how school was going and if there was anything fun happening in my world. She would wrap me in a huge, warm hug that always smelled of her perfume. (You know the kind that older ladies wear, that always smells sophisticated.) Whenever I left to go home, Marilyn would hug me again and tell me she loved me.” This is what I said at the service when they asked for people to share their memories of Marilyn. I was 11 years old. …show more content…
I looked around at everyone sitting in the church. Most of their faces mirrored my own, puffy, red eyes, cheeks streaked with salty tears. After I sat Marilyn’s best friend Kaye took ahold of my hand, she didn’t let go until the visitation was over.
I remember when my mom first told me Marilyn was sick. Crying hard, I questioned God, “Why? Why would you do this to her? She doesn’t deserve this!” I went to my room and sobbed into my pillow. Eventually staining its case with my
All sorts of people wandered into the church. It was packed, I mean wall to wall bodies. There were so many people there that the church ran out of the extra metal folding chairs and people were left standing. The only non-crowded spot in the church was the altar, where the cold, lifeless body of Marilyn Jean Beddow rested in her dark colored coffin.
“Marilyn and her husband Bill have lived next door to my family since before I was even thought of. She was like a grandmother to me. I spent days playing in her lush green yard and running through the sky-high pine trees with her actual granddaughter, Brittney. Every time I came over she would ask how school was going and if there was anything fun happening in my world. She would wrap me in a huge, warm hug that always smelled of her perfume. (You know the kind that older ladies wear, that always smells sophisticated.) Whenever I left to go home, Marilyn would hug me again and tell me she loved me.” This is what I said at the service when they asked for people to share their memories of Marilyn. I was 11 years old. …show more content…
I looked around at everyone sitting in the church. Most of their faces mirrored my own, puffy, red eyes, cheeks streaked with salty tears. After I sat Marilyn’s best friend Kaye took ahold of my hand, she didn’t let go until the visitation was over.
I remember when my mom first told me Marilyn was sick. Crying hard, I questioned God, “Why? Why would you do this to her? She doesn’t deserve this!” I went to my room and sobbed into my pillow. Eventually staining its case with my