The tree branches struck against the window as 15-year-old Emma Barlowe lay on her soft bed. She was startled as the lightning struck and the rain splattered onto the rooftop. She looked outside at the swaying branches and leaves.
“Mom, is Dad on his way? It’s getting bad out there!” Emma shouted, her voice trembling over the roaring storm.
“I don’t know sweetheart”, her mother shouted back. “Your Dad hasn’t responded to any of my calls or texts.”
Emma looked back outside at the blowing trees. She tried to think of something to distract her, but nothing seemed to work. She tried not to think about her father in such harsh conditions. The two of them sat through the storm, praying until her mother received a phone call.
“Is that Dad?” Emma questioned as she started to get hopeful, until she saw her Mom’s face, which was completely pale.
“What’s wrong Mom?” Emma questioned once again starting to get worried.
“Your father…” Her Mom responded, beginning to cry as her voice started to shake.
“Honey, you may want to sit down for this”.
Emma slowly and hesitantly sat herself down on the wooden stool. At this point, Emma had no hope of receiving any good news.
“Well, your father was driving and-” her mother swallowed, “He got into an accident and he didn’t make it out alive.” Emma’s mom continued, beginning to sob.
“No, no, no”, Emma began to cry and her voice started to grow louder. “NO! This can’t be happening! It must be a mistake! There must be something wrong. This can’t be!” She stormed out of the kitchen to her room sobbing while her lonely mom sat there, shedding tears.
Emma lay in her bed as she stared up at the ceiling as the thunder crackled and the rain splattered onto the roof. She thought of all the memories she had with her Dad as tears rolled down her face onto the white fluffy sheets. Emma closed her eyes. She couldn’t stop thinking about all times that they went to the local fair. She couldn’t stop thinking of the times that they went biking around the neighborhood together. She couldn’t stop thinking.
When Emma was just four years old, she had recently learned how to ride a bike and, when she fell off her pink bicycle, her Dad was always there to catch her. When Emma was eight and she had just made blueberry muffins for her little brother Michael, she splattered the batter all over the kitchen floor. Emma’s Dad cleaned it up.
A week went by without Emma’s father beside her and she found herself standing by a coffin in a black dress. Soft, mellow, and sad music was playing as Jon’s family arrived. After everyone had arrived, the Priest started to speak.
“We stand here today, in honor of Jon Barlowe, a beloved friend, father, uncle, and husband.” He swallowed. Emma, [Michael][who is Micheal?] (Micheal is Emma’s little brother as stated at the end of the two paragraphs before), and her Mom, along with Jon’s sister, Marci, were hugging each other tightly, crying. “If you would like to come up and speak, you are now
Welcome.”
Emma’s Mom slowly walked up and began to cry.
“On behalf of my family, I would like to begin by thanking everyone that is here today and those who have sent their condolences. We have received countless phone calls, e-mails, flowers, meals, visits, and thoughts and prayers. They have been comforting during this difficult time and have been a reminder of the impact that Jon had on many others. My name is Erin, I am Jon’s wife. I was too shy to even look him in the eye on the day I met him.
Eventually, we were introduced to each other; we laughed, we danced, and we fell in love. As you can imagine, Jon was the greatest husband I could’ve ever asked for. He was full of life, he was funny, but most importantly, he had an eternal love for his family.” Erin walked back to her two children and Marci in the crowd. Marci stepped up and began her speech to the audience.
“Good evening. Most of you know me, but if not, my name is Marci Ainsley. I am Jon’s sister and it is my honor to share my thoughts with you today. As I was preparing for this eulogy, I thought of all the memories and good times I had with my brother. Jon, this is for you.” She took a breath.
“Jon was born to our mother and father, Louis and Petunia Barlowe on a beautiful day in West Virginia. He was the youngest of 3 children. He was full of laughter and joy, and he was such a loving person. Jon, you will always be in my heart.” Marci went back to Emma, her little brother, and Erin. Soon after that, Emma sobbed, hugging her mother tighter, mascara coming down from her eyelids, as the coffin was slowly placed down. They covered the coffin with dirt.
“Mom, is Dad on his way? It’s getting bad out there!” Emma shouted, her voice trembling over the roaring storm.
“I don’t know sweetheart”, her mother shouted back. “Your Dad hasn’t responded to any of my calls or texts.”
Emma looked back outside at the blowing trees. She tried to think of something to distract her, but nothing seemed to work. She tried not to think about her father in such harsh conditions. The two of them sat through the storm, praying until her mother received a phone call.
“Is that Dad?” Emma questioned as she started to get hopeful, until she saw her Mom’s face, which was completely pale.
“What’s wrong Mom?” Emma questioned once again starting to get worried.
“Your father…” Her Mom responded, beginning to cry as her voice started to shake.
“Honey, you may want to sit down for this”.
Emma slowly and hesitantly sat herself down on the wooden stool. At this point, Emma had no hope of receiving any good news.
“Well, your father was driving and-” her mother swallowed, “He got into an accident and he didn’t make it out alive.” Emma’s mom continued, beginning to sob.
“No, no, no”, Emma began to cry and her voice started to grow louder. “NO! This can’t be happening! It must be a mistake! There must be something wrong. This can’t be!” She stormed out of the kitchen to her room sobbing while her lonely mom sat there, shedding tears.
Emma lay in her bed as she stared up at the ceiling as the thunder crackled and the rain splattered onto the roof. She thought of all the memories she had with her Dad as tears rolled down her face onto the white fluffy sheets. Emma closed her eyes. She couldn’t stop thinking about all times that they went to the local fair. She couldn’t stop thinking of the times that they went biking around the neighborhood together. She couldn’t stop thinking.
When Emma was just four years old, she had recently learned how to ride a bike and, when she fell off her pink bicycle, her Dad was always there to catch her. When Emma was eight and she had just made blueberry muffins for her little brother Michael, she splattered the batter all over the kitchen floor. Emma’s Dad cleaned it up.
A week went by without Emma’s father beside her and she found herself standing by a coffin in a black dress. Soft, mellow, and sad music was playing as Jon’s family arrived. After everyone had arrived, the Priest started to speak.
“We stand here today, in honor of Jon Barlowe, a beloved friend, father, uncle, and husband.” He swallowed. Emma, [Michael][who is Micheal?] (Micheal is Emma’s little brother as stated at the end of the two paragraphs before), and her Mom, along with Jon’s sister, Marci, were hugging each other tightly, crying. “If you would like to come up and speak, you are now
Welcome.”
Emma’s Mom slowly walked up and began to cry.
“On behalf of my family, I would like to begin by thanking everyone that is here today and those who have sent their condolences. We have received countless phone calls, e-mails, flowers, meals, visits, and thoughts and prayers. They have been comforting during this difficult time and have been a reminder of the impact that Jon had on many others. My name is Erin, I am Jon’s wife. I was too shy to even look him in the eye on the day I met him.
Eventually, we were introduced to each other; we laughed, we danced, and we fell in love. As you can imagine, Jon was the greatest husband I could’ve ever asked for. He was full of life, he was funny, but most importantly, he had an eternal love for his family.” Erin walked back to her two children and Marci in the crowd. Marci stepped up and began her speech to the audience.
“Good evening. Most of you know me, but if not, my name is Marci Ainsley. I am Jon’s sister and it is my honor to share my thoughts with you today. As I was preparing for this eulogy, I thought of all the memories and good times I had with my brother. Jon, this is for you.” She took a breath.
“Jon was born to our mother and father, Louis and Petunia Barlowe on a beautiful day in West Virginia. He was the youngest of 3 children. He was full of laughter and joy, and he was such a loving person. Jon, you will always be in my heart.” Marci went back to Emma, her little brother, and Erin. Soon after that, Emma sobbed, hugging her mother tighter, mascara coming down from her eyelids, as the coffin was slowly placed down. They covered the coffin with dirt.
