My Own Eulogy

 "You're up. Remember, once you're done, I'll take you right On Home," He said with the warmest smile.

I nodded.

"I was a good person."

That's what I wished to say, anyway. Good. But it's different when you're eulogizing your own funeral. Especially with a chance to tell so many people who showed up. Every single person I knew. Everyone I remember. Even the acquaintances seemed like family.

I wished at first to brag to about all the fantastic things I'd done to impress them, or remind them. The adventures I went on. I accomplishments I made. The places I'd been. But none of that seemed significant now that I was...

I was given a rare deal by the one taking me, what did he call it? Home.

He said He'd give me one last opportunity to explain myself to people. One last shot to share the importance of my life. And then after, He'd take me with Him to...wherever I must go.

Now with a chance to speak and a crowd of people sitting around me, my mouth hung open as it couldn't find any sound. I thought about everything I could say and wanted to say to these people. Every moment.

How sorry I was I couldn't give them more time. How I sought forgiveness for anytime I ever did any of them wrong. How I really felt on the inside about them all sitting here. How I cared for every single of them. How my heart yearned to hug them all for hours once more. But their faces said it all.

One after the other had tears running, streaming down their cheeks. Every eye swam. Some were convulsing, others smiling through pain, but all were celebrating my life. Celebrating who I was to them.

"I think this is enough. I'm ready to go now."

"Yes. Those who end up going On with love in their soul...their life has said it all."

"Thank you...for this".

He nodded and let our that same smile. "Just wait until you see what's next."

Strength & Sacrifice

Despite willingly falling apart...

Photo by oksix/iStock / Getty Images

Photo by oksix/iStock / Getty Images

Even after all the hurt I caused...

All the pain I gave...

All the times I didn't just turn from Him...but spat upon His face...

Even after every time I ever did Him horribly, terribly wrong and knew it...

He saved me.

And here we stand...

...while he doesn't.

Yet, He's the strength in my heart, pumping to my legs.

He's the courage in my soul allowing me to walk.

He's the compassion in my arms letting me reach out.

He's the reason for all of it.

For everything.

And it's a sacrifice that'll be living on through me and many others even after we live.

So, despite their falling, others may stand

Get Her Back

Today was the day I'd get her back.

Revenge was imminent.

After all she did.

After all the pain she inflicted on me.

After all the grief. The heartache. The burdens.

She deserved so much more than what I was about to give her. But it didn't matter.

I had everything I needed to precisely work out all that I planned.

Eventfully, she approached, stopping within feet of me. She started to shy away, almost backing up.

But I didn't wait. I had this only opportunity. From my pockets I extended out my weapons. The only thing that would change anything. The one thing that could turn the whole situation on its head. Everyone around stood in shock with their jaws nearly thumping to the floor.

Then, just as I hoped, it worked. She fell right into them. All that had been felt before was finally satisfied in this moment. The tension was gone. The anger vanished...

...And warmth resided.

Not just within me, but her as well. She smiled, as did I. And it was all from the weapons I was meant to use. The ones used for revenge on the darkness.

The most powerful of all.

My wide open arms.

The Story Meant To Be Written

So close.

"Honey? Honey? Can you listen to me please? I was wondering if you'd like to..."

I don't hear the rest.

We're just married.

I have to finish this so I can better support her.

This is the story I was meant to write.


Almost there.

"Daddy, can you come play with me?"

He's 3 years old.

We'll play later.

I have to keep writing.

This is the story I was meant to write.


One more chapter.

"Daddy? Will you read me a bedtime book?"

He's 8 years old.

2nd grade.

His mother can do it.

I'll get back to her tomorrow.

This is the story I was meant to write.


A few more edits.

"Sweetheart, can we go out this weekend? Been awhile with just the two of us."

I love her so.

But perhaps next weekend.

This is the story I was meant to write.


Need to fix the flow of this section.

"Hey buddy! Wanna go on a hiking trip in the mountains? It'll be just like the old days. Real living. Adventuring. Exploring..."

It's good to hear from him.

But we'll have to reschedule.

This is the story I was meant to write.


The final draft.

"Honey are you ready?"

"Dad? We've gotta go."

It's his graduation.

I couldn't be prouder.

I'll just take a few pages with me to edit until his name is called.

This is the story I was meant to write.


One final polish.

"Honey? Honey, wake up. I...I don't know if you can here me but've had an accident and the doctors...they don't think you're gonna make it...I love you Honey. We love you..."

And It hits me that my writing doesn't matter.

My life has passed me and I've forgotten...

This is the story I was meant to write.