Which is to say that my absence has more value than my presence. Attaching a greater value to the soft, untouchable lightness of not being than to the heavy burden of the body and mind?
To think that my presence, warm and beating and vibrant, all my love and truth on the table, could be enough to keep its seat. I am just keeping it warm for the next girl you move in. The one light enough for you to commit to. Instead, I string up lights around the house and give you every little piece of me and hope that this time, it will be enough.
You, sweet and cruel, let me hope. You never warn me about the third-degree burns or the eviction notice I trusted you enough to stop waiting for. You talk to me about being here and you make me glad I am. You give me a safe place where I can exist outside of my body, outside of my mind. The police are downstairs.
How did I let it get to this? Tell them. Tell them for me. My friends never quite understood. I want to say, dark clouds, depressive tendencies, ship set to self-destruct, but the truth is sadder.
A stab in the dark that pierces skin. A frail attempt at comfort that loses all meaning from the moment it touches our lips. What are memories but our flimsy ideas of the past? Like gum, memory is rolled on our tongues so many times that its shape bends to our will. We chew and chew and chew and never swallow, never digest, never let it settle. The thought of that happening to our memories terrifies me. He has gone, and all over India there is a feeling of having been left desolate and forlorn.
All of us sense that feeling, and I do not know when we shall be able to get rid of it. And yet together with that feeling there is also a feeling of proud thankfulness that it has been given to us of this generation to be associated with this mighty person. In ages to come, centuries and maybe millennia after us, people will think of this generation when this man of God trod on earth, and will think of us who, however small, could also follow his path and tread the holy ground where his feet had been.
He rose to prominence in the civil rights movement of the s, led the famous March on Washington in , and the March from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama, in A brilliant orator and writer, whose insistence upon nonviolence in the Gandhian tradition accounted for the success of the movement, Dr.
King was assassinated on April 4, , in Memphis, Tennessee, by a white man. What we need in the United States is not division; what we need in the United States is not hatred; what we need in the United States is not violence or lawlessness, but love and wisdom and compassion toward one another, and a feeling of injustice towards those who still suffer within our country, whether they be white or they be black. Kennedy, Kara, Edward, Patrick, Curran, Caroline, members of the Kennedy family, distinguished guests, and fellow citizens:.
Today we say goodbye to the youngest child of Rose and Joseph Kennedy. The world will long remember their son Edward as the heir to a weighty legacy; a champion for those who had none; the soul of the Democratic Party; and the lion of the U. Senate — a man whose name graces nearly one thousand laws, and who penned more than three hundred himself.
But those of us who loved him, and ache with his passing, know Ted Kennedy by the other titles he held: Father. Ted Kennedy has gone home now, guided by his faith and by the light of those he has loved and lost.
At last he is with them once more, leaving those of us who grieve his passing with the memories he gave, the good he did, the dream he kept alive, and a single, enduring image — the image of a man on a boat; white mane tousled; smiling broadly as he sails into the wind, ready for what storms may come, carrying on toward some new and wondrous place just beyond the horizon.
May God Bless Ted Kennedy, and may he rest in eternal peace. Live your life that the fear of death can never enter your heart. Trouble no one about his religion. Respect others in their views and demand that they respect yours. Love your life, perfect your life, beautify all things in your life.
Seek to make your life long and of service to your people. Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide. Always give a word or sign of salute when meeting or passing a friend, or even a stranger, if in a lonely place.
Show respect to all people, but grovel to none. When you rise in the morning, give thanks for the light, for your life, for your strength. Give thanks for your food and for the joy of living. If you see no reason to give thanks, the fault lies in yourself. Touch not the poisonous firewater that makes wise ones turn to fools and robs the spirit of its vision. When your time comes to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way.
Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home. Together we fix every piece we can. It is a healing process, and I never run away again. And then we are some 45 minutes away at another table littered with felt, thread, and an endless supply of buttons. My mom is in every frame, and the soundtrack loops in song and laughter.
This is her in happiness. Fast forward through a montage of smiling years to find my mother crying in the kitchen. When I graduated from high school she wrote me a letter, then typed it to make it official. In it she recounted my apparent childhood desire to leave the rat race behind and pursue a dream that ran directly to clown school, and then, I assume, into a small, crowded car.
She reminded me that it was still an option. She knew that life is full of pie in your face, and she felt that I should own it. I turned 60 in January. She had been in a nursing home and died there. My family had her cremated and no service not even a memorial.
I am preparing a eulogy for my sister who I found dead last Monday. You can search for poems for my sister at her death and they have many ideas. In doing so, you will honor her legacy. Hold on to that memory as a celebration of her life. Adore the memory you have of her, for like a beautiful precious flower she bloomed only a short time to give the world a little bit of happiness in seeing her, touching her, and loving her.
We can all learn to be more aware of the valuable short life we have. We can be reminded to drive slowly and carefully. We can justify taking extra time to love our children, our nieces and nephews, our grandchildren, and our precious friends. Remember her and she will live again. Frankie had been able to celebrate. It never even occurred to me to ask this question of the friends and former classmates who contacted me to share the sad news of her passing. I then realized that it was perhaps somewhat odd that I had not been prepared to answer this question.
But, it occurred to me that this lady, whom we consider to be the best educator we had ever been blessed with, was an absolute timeless icon. Although decades have passed since we all sat in her class, that feeling we had when she greeted us back then has not faded a bit from our collective memories. Frankie created in her classroom remains forever quite vivid in the parts of our brains that experience pleasure. There is no tapering off of our recollections when it comes to matters involving this particular teacher.
We humans tend to hold on to the best memories of our childhood and Mrs. Frankie Gauthier was most certainly a big part of our best memories. She was indeed. Frankie strived relentlessly to guide us toward a special understanding of how much life could be contained in written words.
To a casual observer visiting her classroom for a brief period, her teaching style may not have seemed much different than that of other teachers in nearby classrooms. But anyone who spent just a few extra class cycles with her could not help but begin to notice what the highest level of teaching excellence looked like. She had a delivery that was both gentle and powerful at the same time.
Her ability to accomplish this was not due to the class being populated with perfectly reared and well behaved children, it was rooted in a style she had of making ever lesson incredibly interesting and profoundly important to each and every one of us.
Many of us who may have slouched in geography or snoozed in civics seemed to acquire an unexpected second wind as soon as we crossed the threshold of her classroom.How to prepare, write and give a memorable eulogy, including examples of eulogies for the famous, quotes and poems to help you craft and deliver the perfect message on the day. Use this comprehensive guide to structure your eulogy, give you ideas and prepare you for giving the bluesrock.granilargardajindforcerunner.infoinfo: Dom Barnard.