• I was 29 or 30, it was one of my old college tutors. A few years later I had the same role at the same college, I often thought of him and how it would have amused him to know I had his old job.
  • A few days after my fourth birthday, my oldest sister's funeral- she was about to turn twelve. My second funeral was my father's, who died a few days before Christmas later the same year. A few years ago someone I then worked with made a big deal out of their "lucky golden birthday", a thing I had never heard of. It's when your age matches the day in the month of your birth. My day of birth was the fourth, so my "lucky golden birthday" was when I was four; I had to laugh in their face.
      Wow sounds pretty hard what you had to go through. I hope with time this has helped you make you stronger, and able to help someone, or a child who might be going through the same.
    • robted
      To be frank, it's very, very complicated to the point that I could write a book about it. As a senior I now feel some guilt for my father's death from what was basically suicide due to self-neglect but constantly remind myself that he was the adult and should have been able to deal with the situation that developed between my parents over my sister's death, in which I sided with my mom. I was the youngest and the only son and one night when I inserted myself into one of their arguments he gave me a look that hadn't much effect on me at age four but which I remember to this day and it was a look of utter hopelessness.
  • I was 5 or 6. It was my great grandmother. I understood what was happening & remember being scared of death, I knew she was no more. I had trouble falling asleep often, I felt an overwhelming feeling, from my chest to my throat to my head. With time this feeling disappeared, death is a part of life, and it's what you do while you're here that counts, it's not the birth or death year, it's the dash in the middle ("The Dash" is actually a poem), that counts, and have to make most of it! That dash is short!
  • I was about 6- 7 when my grandfather died from complications of amputation. He was born in July of 1876 and passed on in 1956. 12/11/22
  • 6 years old - my dad. I handled the funeral okay - it was growing up without a dad that left lifelong scars.
  • Anagrams can be both entertaining and tasteless. Re-arrange the letters of 'funeral' and you get "real fun". (I'll let myself out...).
    • dalcocono
      Cute, a bit twisted, but cute.

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