funeral :: essays research papers

I was school term in the church, the fourth or fifth row rearward, and the seventh set in, next to my mom, with her arm around me. She hugged me close to her warm body, letting me silently know everything is going to be all right. I rested my head teacher on her shoulder, as if to tell her thank-you, and looked at the microphone on the left field side of the front present. Then I looked at the center of the stage the pastor was walking toward the podium from his fundament. He leaned over and spoke briefly, coitus us who the next speaker would be."Next we have a meter from a close friend of the family, Sarah, and Scotts daughter, Arielle." then he was back to his seat in the front row.Sarah who was considered the third daughter of both my separated parents, and Arielle, my sister, walked up to the microphone on the left. Sarah pulled out a folded -piece of paper, and opened it. She began to read with presumption in her voice, and determination in her striket. Wow, I recall thinking, This is really good. I hope I can get a copy of it.As Sarah went on, the room was silent. There were over a hundred people in that location and the calmness of her voice kept us all quiet, as if she were vocalizing a lullaby. After a few minutes, her breathing became irregular, and I could hear her voice start to crack. She was going to start crying. Arielle put a kind-hearted hand on her shoulder. You could hear a deep breath in the microphone that echoed in the tall building. I heard her whisper " alright" and then she went on. Her words came out clear and smooth as if secret code would stop her. Then she finished. No one moved. She made her way back to her seat, followed by Arielle.