Essay PreviewMore ↓
Celery sticks served as slugger bats; olives substituted for baseballs to be smashed across the kitchen. Cousins Sonny and Guido were pitcher and catcher, and my sister Dorrie was a combination of infield and outfield. I came up to bat for the first time just as Gramps called for us to come into the living room.
A policeman stood in the doorway. Nonnie and Aunt Sandy were crying. All morning we had been told to stop touching the Thanksgiving dinner or we would be punished. Who expected to go to jail because of olives!
Gramps pulled Dorrie and me onto his lap and hugged us close. "Your momma and daddy were going to get Uncle Vince and a truck hit their car. God took them to heaven." He started to cry. I wished he would let us down. His prickly sweater smelled of tobacco, and his mouth was purple from wine.
Dorrie and I went home with Aunt Sandy. My stomach was hurting and making tiger noises, but everybody was crying so I was afraid to say I was hungry.
In the morning we went to a dark room where Mother and Daddy were lying in coffins. It smelled so sweet in that room, and the red-glassed candles burning everywhere made it sticky hot. Mother wore a lacy pink dress. A pink satin blanket covered her feet. Daddy looked so white, as if he wore makeup like Mother. Folded newspapers were hidden inside his trouser legs.
At night we all knelt down on the blue carpet and prayed a long, long time with Father Minnorra from Our Lady of the Angels Church. My knees were sore and I shifted my weight from one leg to the other. Aunt Sandy touched my shoulder and said, "Marie, stop that rocking. Kneel up."
The morning of the funeral was very bright. The curtains were opened in the coffin room. Aunt Sandy held my hand. She wore a black hat with a big black feather. Her eyes had big red circles around them, and her mouth was bright red. She reminded me of the clown in my circus coloring book.
How to Cite this Page
"Personal Narrative - My Parents' Funeral." 123HelpMe.com. 17 Jan 2019
Need Writing Help?
Get feedback on grammar, clarity, concision and logic instantly.Check your paper »
- Personal Narrative- A Preventable Death He looks at his watch and realizes that he has to leave now before he gets yelled at due to missing the 12:00 curfew. Upon my cousin Sean's arrival home, he begged his mom for an extended curfew, after all he was the star of the 19991 homecoming football game at Royalton high school, he should have been able to stay out later. After losing this fight with rather stubborn mom, and her giving him a stern "Sean I am not going over this again, it is late and I would like you to live until morning, so you need to go downstairs and get some sleep." he hung his head and went downstairs.... [tags: Personal Narrative]
1015 words (2.9 pages)
- A Conversation about My Father "'This is the only person in the world who understands me' he always said, holding you proudly high above his head. Oh, he adored you... but, I guess I you wouldn't remember that, you were just a baby," my mother sadly responded. That was the first time I dared to ask her the obviously painful questions about my father, who had died when I was two. I was nine then and felt I was old enough to know and wise enough to understand, so I sat on a stool in the corner of our tiny, cramped kitchen in Columbus, listening to my mother paint a picture of our family.... [tags: Personal Narrative essay about myself]
539 words (1.5 pages)
- Personal Narrative the Suicide of a Friend Can you single out just one day from your past that you can honestly say changed your life forever. I know I can. It was a typical January day, with one exception; it was the day the Pope came to St. Louis. My brother and I had tickets to the youth rally, and we were both very excited. It was destined to be an awesome day- or so we thought. The glory and euphoria of the Papal visit quickly faded into a time of incredible pain and sorrow, a time from which I am still emerging.... [tags: Papers]
1012 words (2.9 pages)
- I Survived High-School "Welcome to White Oak High School, home of the Vikings." The speech given to any fool unfortunate enough to enroll in this school. My first high school had an unhospitable atmosphere. It had the distinction of having the highest murder rate of any school in North Carolina. The school's undercover narcotics officer, Randy, was killed in the faculty parking lot. A car pulled up, and a black tinted window rolled down. The passenger in the back seat shot him once in the head with a handgun, then the car sped away.... [tags: Personal Narrative Writing]
1080 words (3.1 pages)
- Valarie wanted to help her Aunt so much and be the child that she was crying for. She had often thought about finding Aunt Celia, it was something that lingered in her thoughts. Sometimes it was at the forefront, other times it drifted to the back, but it never left her. Valarie had not had contact with her family for so long that the thought of meeting them left her feeling cold. It was a hard thing to do, but in her mind it was the only thing to do. She smiled when she thought about her cousin Dee.... [tags: personal narrative]
1185 words (3.4 pages)
- The Indian tribe buries a courier, in other words, a messenger. Someone who transmits messages. He was placed in a boat right next to all kinds of necessary items: the food, extra clothes, a bow and some arrows. This ceremony is observed by an elderly scholar - European. His name is John. He is watching the ceremony with his arms being crossed. He is grim and thinks about something that is on his mind. Being at this funeral brings him a melancholy thought because not so long time ago his wife passed away.... [tags: personal narrative]
821 words (2.3 pages)
- “Ghostly Tales:” “The Call” Q1) I am Geoff the husband of Meg. Today we faced a mysterious problem about a hoax woman who’s going to be killed by her husband when he finishes locking all the fences locks of the river and push her in the River Ousam as if it’s an incident. We received 4 calls, but every time when I ask the girl a question the call keeps going off. Her voice is dread and cold like a dead ghost. The first time the girl rang I logged the call. I caught it from a distance knowing that it’s not the phrase that were so awful he felt that the girl is just making fun on an Christmas Eve.... [tags: personal narrative]
1822 words (5.2 pages)
- I Hate Needles Dr. Ross’ comments: As part of our study of American Literature, my class and I explore the continuing theme of “connection to community” as revealed by the writers. I also offer my students bonus points for performing a community service and writing about their own “connection to community” as discovered through their act of service. This student chose to donate blood and writes a surprisingly delightful description of her experience. She humorously finds her own good connections.... [tags: Personal Narrative]
1364 words (3.9 pages)
- Funeral - Personal Narrative I gaze around. I see one family, brought together, to mourn for one of our own. Countless numbers of dark figures stand on parade, speaking in unison to pay our respects to one whom we adore. The sadness corrupts my inner soul and my heart bleeds a river inside. Nothing could change the wretchedness I feel. We leave, what seems to me, not a holy church, but more of a devil's palace. But the worst is yet to come. Still shedding tears I climb into the hearse, my eyes fixed upon the noble man in the back, in the vain hope that there would be life in him once again.... [tags: Papers]
608 words (1.7 pages)
- It is no longer the home I grew up in. The loss of my mother is evident now more than ever, cementing the realization of how one person’s impact can be as much the foundation of a home as the concrete itself. It has been two years since our lives changed forever. My dad is recently remarried and trying to move forward after losing his wife of almost thirty-eight years to terminal brain cancer. Since my mother’s death and my father’s subsequent remarriage, our family house has lost its comfortable feel of home; in its place now resides a reflective sadness, an impersonal emptiness, and a surreal urgency. The living and dining rooms are now tidy and impersonal.... [tags: Personal Narrative]
831 words (2.4 pages)
Aunt Sandy kissed Daddy and lifted me to do the same. I touched his cheek. His skin was stiff. I kissed his forehead. We moved to Mother. Aunt Sandy lifted me again. I kissed Mother, then stood on the kneeler. I moved down and lifted the pink satin cover. Mother's shoes were pink. I moved back toward her head. Touching, touching as I went. Her hair was soft. Her lips were not soft. I pressed her mouth. It was tight. I pushed my fingers into her mouth. I saw and felt cotton. Aunt Sandy pulled me away.
A man in striped pants pulled down the backs of the coffins. Nonnie was crying. Gramps was blowing his nose. Someone took Dorrie and me to a big car. We sat on two little pull-down seats behind the driver.
At the cemetery everyone was crying and praying. Aunt Sandy fainted when the two men with ropes lowered the coffins into the graves. Father Minnorra gave Dorrie and me each a white flower. Mine was turning brown and its petals were falling. I gave the flower to Gramps so I could put my cold hands in my coat pockets.