So we had to write a slightly morbid paper about our own funeral. This is what I came up with. Please let me know if you find any grammatical errors! The more help the better. I am also going to include an alternate ending. Enjoy!
“We are
gathered here today, not to mourn the loss of a family member, a friend, a
loved one, but to celebrate the life he lived. Anyone who knew Brendon would
also know that he’d be the first to try and make you laugh, even at his own
funeral. His body may have left this earthly domain, but his memories will live
on inside all who knew him. To help us remember him, and to share what they
enjoyed about him, a few people have decided to let you know the difference he
made in their lives. The first person to take the stage is Marie Hogan, his
dedicated and loving wife.”
Marie walks
up the short flight of stairs and to the podium. Tears glisten in her blue
eyes, but she sets her jaw and gazes out upon the immense crowd gathered. She
is determined to be strong. “Brendon Hogan was an asshole.” A gasp escapes the
crowd, as well as a few stifled laughs. “I told him not to die before me, and
look what he did! He went and got himself blown up by an ill-planned
assassination attempt. I don’t know why someone would ever think the president
would drive an old Jeep. Whatever that moron gets is too good for him.” The
crowd remembers the story well, a botched assassination, the assassin being
caught shortly after. His trial was still going on, his attorney claimed
insanity, but nobody believed it. “I guess I should talk about how much fun we
had together, how he made me laugh, and how the best day of both our lives was
when we wed. But talking about those things won’t bring him back, and I know he
wouldn’t want me to dwell on the past. He always said, ‘The past is the past,
it cannot be changed no matter how much we wish it could be, so point your feet
forward and keeping moving on.’ I know that is the maxim he lived by and I hope
that everyone here can try and live the same way. Goodbye my crazy husband, my best friend, the love of
my life, I will never forget you, but I promise to carry on and carry you with
me in my heart.” She steps back, wipes her eyes, and proceeds to the front row
of the auditorium. Her mother holds her right hand, her father her left.
Together they provide a small bit of strength, just the amount she needs to
keep her composure. She looks towards the stage and gives Sameer a small smile,
he returns it and mounts the steps.
“I remember
the first time I ever talked to Brendon. I had put a question on Facebook, to
all of the PharmD candidates, asking for any advice on living arrangements in
Austin. He was the only one to respond and we soon become close friends. He was
there for me when I was struggling the first semester, always encouraging and
always giving me a good laugh. He had the weirdest sense of humor of anyone I
knew and that was what made him so funny.” Sameer looks around at the thousands
in the crowd before him, clears his throat, and continues. “No matter how tough
things got, he was there to offer advice, and tell me that it would all work
out in the end. I don’t know how much I believed him, but it always made me
feel better and gave me the boost I needed to carry on. I remember the first
week of school, all the pharmacy groups were giving out free food, trying to
recruit members, and of course we went to all of the meetings. I remember at
the APhA meeting he said, ‘Samwise, nominate me for historian, I might as well
do something if I am going to be part of this group.’ So I nominated him, and
he won the position, probably because he mentioned his new DSLR camera, but
whatever gets you the votes. He devoted himself to the position and the group,
and became one of the honorary members of the semester. Everything he did in
school, he did to the best of his ability, no matter the task. I think it was
this dedication and determination that helped me too. Like Marie said, he was
an asshole, but a good asshole, and I will never forget the things he did for
me and the college of pharmacy in general.” Sameer heads back to his seat,
giving Marie a small squeeze on the shoulder as he passes. He sits with the
rest of the “gang” from school. Mike is still red-eyed and clutches a tissue
tightly, Inam sits stoically as if none of this bothers him, but Sameer can
tell that he is off in another time, remembering all the good times they had
shared as four good friends. He returns his gaze to the stage where Christina,
a co-worker and friend, has reached the podium.
“I remember
the first time I worked with Brendon. I had just graduated from pharmacy school
and he had just been accepted. He was new to the Austin area and was ‘floating’
from store to store until a permanent position opened up. He was still a
technician then but already had big dreams of becoming the CEO of CVS. I know
if he would have been given a few more years he would have been there.” She
turns away and chokes back a sob, closing her eyes, she calms her shaky voice
and continues, “I remember asking if he was going to be a ‘floater’ or if they
had a store in mind for him. ‘Yeah, they are actually going to put me in the
new store, in Dripping Springs.’ I was shocked, because I would be moving out
there as a pharmacist. ‘I can’t believe it, that’s where I am going too!’ A
smile spread across his lips, ‘Good! I am glad that I know at least one of the
pharmacists will know what the hell they’re doing.’” She laughs, “I still can’t
believe he phrased it that way, but that was Brendon, never delicate and always
to the point. I think that is what most people liked about him. He seemed harsh
at first, but then once you got to truly know him, you realized all he was
doing was pointing out the truth. He may have had a slight cynical spin to it,
but it was the truth none the less. We had great fun working as tech and pharmacist.
Right about the time he graduated CVS opened a new store in Bee Cave and asked
if I wanted to be pharmacist-in-charge. I agreed and asked if he wanted to be
my partner, ‘Of course, of course, but only until I gain enough experience to
take over my own store, become district manager and then CEO.’ He said it with
such certainty, as if he had seen the future and knew exactly what was in store
for him. Apparently he didn’t see this day.” She pauses, takes a deep breath,
and continues, “He was amazing with customers, treated them all like family,
and could calm down even the most irate of patients. Little old ladies would
bring him pie on Thanksgiving, and the old men would always come in on the weekends
just to talk. He was what I would imagine a small town independent would be
like, but working for a big corporation. He made CVS feel welcoming and would
always help anyone with any troubles, he never thought better of himself over
the customers or technicians. Everyone genuinely loved him, and he them. I will
always remember Brendon and I know his patients and friends will too.” She lets
go of the podium, weak kneed and ashen, and makes her way back into the crowd,
back into reality. She locks eyes with Marie as she passes, a silent “Thank
you”, and then sits down next to her husband Paul. He hands her a tissue and
she realizes tears have been silently streaming down her cheeks. However, she
lets them flow, knowing that they are a tribute to the friend and colleague she
lost and they do not embarrass her. She turns her gaze towards the front where
a stranger, wearing all grey, is making her way up to the center of the stage.
“I don’t
know much about Brendon’s personal life, and many of you probably don’t even
know who I am. My name is Sophie Brooks, and Brendon did more for me and my
family then he probably even knows. I felt it would be an insult to his memory
if I didn’t come today and share what he did for us. As a first year student
Brendon was assigned to come and visit my mother at The Summit of Westlake
assisted living facility. She had stage four Alzheimer’s disease and for the
most part lived her present in the past. He would come and visit her every
other week and she just loved him. I remember sitting on her couch as he was
walking in the door for one of the visits, and she said ‘Who is this beautiful
man that is coming to visit!’ We both laughed and he played along with her,
‘Why, I am her to see you of course! The most beautiful lady I know!’” She
smiles, remembering that day and how happy her mother had seemed, “I knew at
first she didn’t remember who he was, but he wouldn’t get upset, he would just
keep talking to her as if they were old friends. Eventually I noticed that on
days he would come and visit, she seemed more lucid, more in the present. And
finally, she knew him, she remembered him! Tears gathered at the corners of his
eyes as she said, ‘Hello Brendon. How has your week been?’ He had made a true
connection with her and the pair become more than just resident and pharmacy
student. They became loved ones for each other, grandmother and grandson, the
kind of bond that is almost impossible to find once lost. I know his
grandparents had all passed early in his life, and this adoptive one was just
what he needed in the high stress world we live in. I will never forget Brendon
and I hope that others will learn from the examples he set and live to be half
the man he was.” She runs a grey sleeve across her yellow eyes and makes her
way back to her seat in the sea of faces. She thinks of her mother, and of
Brendon, and hopes that if there is a heaven they found each other there and
are laughing and talking of old times spent together. She turns her gaze upon
the stage again, as a small man wearing a white suit reaches the microphone. He
is quite good looking and has the most beautiful blue eyes she has ever seen.
At a different time, a different place, she may have considered pursuing him,
but now all she can give him is her attention.
“I remember
the first time I worked with Brendon at the Austin Zoo and Animal Sanctuary. I
thought to myself, ‘What is this man, someone who has sold his soul to a
corporation, someone who serves the most vicious animal of all, doing here?
Trying to make himself feel good, or maybe a tax write-off.’” He shakes his
head, as if trying to rid himself of this memory. “How wrong I was. Brendon was
one of the most dedicated volunteers and animal lover I had ever met. I could
tell by the way he treated them, no matter what animal it was, no matter how frightening,
smelly, or ugly, that he thought of them as more than animals. He would always
tell me, ‘Greg these are my furry and feathered children! I don’t understand
how people could be so cruel to them, but I will try and make it up to them.’
And try he did, he would treat them as if they actually were his children and
the animals could sense his compassion. He could calm the angriest tiger, or
coax the most frightened ape out of hiding. He would donate time, money and
most importantly, love. I know that the sanctuary will suffer greatly due his
departure from this life. I know my life will suffer from his passing, and all
I can do is try and be half the man he was. As the great Sirius Black once
said, ‘If you want to know what a man’s like, take a good look at how he treats
his inferiors, not his equals.’ Most people consider animals the inferior
species and if you take this quote to heart, you will know that Brendon was a
truly good man.” He heads to his seat, not looking at any of those around him,
he knows not all of them are bad, but so many are. He raises his gaze and
notices the woman in grey staring intently at him. She notices and quickly
averts her eyes. She is quite pretty and she seems to have truly taken to heart
what he said. Maybe they’re paths will cross again, but now is not the time to
even consider such things. He finds his seat in the last row and closes his
eyes. The voice of the man presiding over the funeral fills the air once again.
“What
beautiful stories everyone has shared! I believe that Brendon would have
enjoyed listening to all the wonderful things his loved ones have had to say.
Do not think this is the end however, for he will always live on inside your
hearts and your memories. As long as you pass on his stories, he will truly
never die. I will leave you with one final quote, something that we should all
take to heart, and that can be applied to any of our lives. Spoken by Albus
Dumbledore to Harry Potter, after Harry has been killed by Lord Voldemort, ‘Do
not pity the dead Harry. Pity the living, and above all, those who live without
love.’” He pauses, looks out at all the living faces looking back at him.
Wondering how many will truly understand what he has said, or if they are too
caught up in their own lives to even consider they may be living them wrong.
“Brendon would not want you to pity him now, for he is finally at peace.”
Alternate ending:
The service is over. Marie makes her way to the doorway to thank everyone for coming and accept condolences. The river of people turns into a stream, turn into a trickle, and then there is none left. She tells her parents to go on without her. Nobody wants to disobey the grieving bride, so they head to their cars and drive away. Marie looks back at the now empty auditorium and smiles. It all went exactly as planned. She makes her way towards the back of the building, wiping her eyes one last time with the back of her hand. There he is, the man she loves, sitting in the front seat of a brand new Camaro. He rolls down the window and says, "Hurry up babe! We aren't getting any younger! Plus, dying takes a major toll on you, and I need a vacation to recover." She laughs and climbs in the passenger seat, she takes Brendon's face in her hands, "You really are an asshole, you know that." She gives him a kiss and buckles up. "Where to my love?" "Anywhere your heart desires my dear, as long as it's not around anyone we know." "Of course not, wouldn't wanna ruin the fun by spoiling the secret."
One month earlier:
"Oh my god, oh my god! What do you mean his car blew up!" Marie collapses on the floor, wishing it to not be so, how could he leave her? How could he go and die now! She turns off her phone, not wanting to talk to anybody else, and just lay there sobbing. Then she hears a door open, footsteps, and she then she lost her mind. Or so she though, because standing above her is Brendon. "You're dead." "Oh am I? Sorry love, but I told you I would never leave you." "But your car..." "I wasn't in it. Sucks to the assmar of the guy that tried to jack it though." "I don't understand, did you not blow up today? That's what the news is saying, the police, the bomb squad." "I told you my one, someone tried to steal my car out of the parking lot. The thief is the one who got blown up. I say the explosion, knew it was my car, and ran. I don't know why, I just did. After I stopped running and calmed down I thought about heading to the police station, but then I thought about all the life insurance money you would be getting from this. How many opportunities like this could a person ever get?" Marie sees the crazy glint in his eye, the set of his jaw, and realizes he is determined to do this. To fake his own death. "What about our families, what about our friends?" "Well we won't tell them at first, if ever. The police aren't going to find anything in that car but twisted metal and ash. There will be no way for them to tell it isn't me. And I doubt the car thief has anyone out looking for him. As long as you play your part, there is no way this won't work. We will be rich, you can quit your job, people will think it's out of grief, and then just disappear. We can start new lives, as millionaires. What do you say?" "I say, I better get a fucking horse out of this deal!" Brendon bursts out laughing, and so does she. A new life, with enough money to do whatever they want. He was right, how many times does something like this present itself. "I guess I should start planning your funeral then."
