Jan 2014
I thought about this paper for many weeks and just what it was I was going to write about. As hard as I can try, I can’t muster up any feelings in any shape or form. The only fear I now face is, when either my father or my girls mother who are both very close to be giving up the fight here on earth I ask myself will I even cry at their funeral and if I don’t what then will all the other family members then think of me? My only defense I guess, will be, I cried out all my tears when my brother had passed away and how he told me not to call for help as he knew he was dying on a ****** overdose. I still to this day deal with just that and how I wish I didn’t listen to what he had said.
All I remember was, when he got that 1.3M he told me he loved me, I was his dog Dollar and he was my Richie Rich and he’ll take care of me because I took care of him when everybody in the family turned him away until he got his money and that was when they all started to come out of the woodwork. Because I never took that into consideration he knew I was true to him and I had to honor a wish that he had given to me before we cashed the check. We both knew one of us probably would die as a result of it and his wish was to just let him be if things got real ugly.
I remember also how I cried all by myself in the funeral home and sat all alone in the church and that nobody in my family asked me if I was ok or even to tell me that they loved me rather then telling me I was next. I now know that they said all that only because he gave me money and tens of thousands they were. He told me many times not to give any of the money he gave me because they didn’t take care of him for 5 years in a wheelchair like I had when he was **** *** poor and with nothing.
It is not out of hatred for not possibly being able to cry but rather I think I am now numb to such imagery. In the pursuit of the endeavor I am undertaking I am using the valuable skills I am gaining so maybe one day I will be able to possible give my children a life I feel everyone should enjoy. In the process of my newly gained knowledge in an undertaking that is shrouded in mystery to many, I am witnessing much more than the normal person could even fathom, handle, let alone I feel comprehend.
My funeral will be a private event for certain selected individuals that only my children deem fit to attend. As far as music and readings go, let them sing and speak their hearts out to me. My estate will be supervised and handled and given to my youngest son Joshua J. Rivard. I want to be wearing a custom tailored suit and without the backs cut out of them. I also wish to be placed in a full view casket till the time where I am then transported to a private location to begin the process of turning myself into a mummy.
Truly the sad part of this whole thing is, and the my hair on my forearms and on the back of my neck are tingling on their end's is, I had the true pleasure of embalming, casketing, and being a pole bearer for my elementary school teacher "Math Class with Mr.. D." (remember that poem?) and I had read his own obituary that he wanted printed for all to read in the local paper prior to his own death and here it is, my college class assignment. O' yeah, Yes I did place in his hands a scientific calculator a TI 81 it was that nobody got to see because nobody came to his awake but I filled in for the millions that should have been there for him. It also was a blessing to tell the funeral director to put him in a solid pecan wood coffin that was the most expensive and I got to keep the extra pillow and the vintage ribbon that was also inside. That is how my poem "Casket Pillow" also came to life.
(SirCARSr. 1-17-14)
Death and Dying Class assignment, Professor gave me a 90 for a grade.
Although this isn't a poem it is something I felt I owed to all my readers, Thank you all for reading and the time you spent thinking about what I had written.
Till Later, SirCARSr.....
All I remember was, when he got that 1.3M he told me he loved me, I was his dog Dollar and he was my Richie Rich and he’ll take care of me because I took care of him when everybody in the family turned him away until he got his money and that was when they all started to come out of the woodwork. Because I never took that into consideration he knew I was true to him and I had to honor a wish that he had given to me before we cashed the check. We both knew one of us probably would die as a result of it and his wish was to just let him be if things got real ugly.
I remember also how I cried all by myself in the funeral home and sat all alone in the church and that nobody in my family asked me if I was ok or even to tell me that they loved me rather then telling me I was next. I now know that they said all that only because he gave me money and tens of thousands they were. He told me many times not to give any of the money he gave me because they didn’t take care of him for 5 years in a wheelchair like I had when he was **** *** poor and with nothing.
It is not out of hatred for not possibly being able to cry but rather I think I am now numb to such imagery. In the pursuit of the endeavor I am undertaking I am using the valuable skills I am gaining so maybe one day I will be able to possible give my children a life I feel everyone should enjoy. In the process of my newly gained knowledge in an undertaking that is shrouded in mystery to many, I am witnessing much more than the normal person could even fathom, handle, let alone I feel comprehend.
My funeral will be a private event for certain selected individuals that only my children deem fit to attend. As far as music and readings go, let them sing and speak their hearts out to me. My estate will be supervised and handled and given to my youngest son Joshua J. Rivard. I want to be wearing a custom tailored suit and without the backs cut out of them. I also wish to be placed in a full view casket till the time where I am then transported to a private location to begin the process of turning myself into a mummy.
Truly the sad part of this whole thing is, and the my hair on my forearms and on the back of my neck are tingling on their end's is, I had the true pleasure of embalming, casketing, and being a pole bearer for my elementary school teacher "Math Class with Mr.. D." (remember that poem?) and I had read his own obituary that he wanted printed for all to read in the local paper prior to his own death and here it is, my college class assignment. O' yeah, Yes I did place in his hands a scientific calculator a TI 81 it was that nobody got to see because nobody came to his awake but I filled in for the millions that should have been there for him. It also was a blessing to tell the funeral director to put him in a solid pecan wood coffin that was the most expensive and I got to keep the extra pillow and the vintage ribbon that was also inside. That is how my poem "Casket Pillow" also came to life.
(SirCARSr. 1-17-14)
Death and Dying Class assignment, Professor gave me a 90 for a grade.
Although this isn't a poem it is something I felt I owed to all my readers, Thank you all for reading and the time you spent thinking about what I had written.
Till Later, SirCARSr.....
