My Funeral

The sun was scorching and the humidity was higher than usual. It was so hot I could barely stand. I could feel the temperature rising as the time pasted. I decided to go find some where to sit because I could no longer tolerate the heat. I sat upon I stone bench under a tree. The bench had carvings of angels and all heavenly creatures. The bench seemed old from the cracked, rough edged surface and the growing moss crawling up the side. The tree did not give much relief from sun but it sustained my body temperature. As I sat I gazed around at the scenery. The lust grass filled the whole field. The rose bushes were in bloom. Stones where spaced out all around me. Some of the stones were standing and there were others that were in the ground. The stones inscribed different names and dates but from where I was sitting I could not make out anything. In the field there was a little dirt road and a little ways down the road, several cars began to pull up. They parked one right after another. People began to file out of their cars and crowded around this box. As they came up to the box, they placed different styles of flowers upon the box. Everyone was dressed in the same color, black. The men were in a black jacket and tie suit and all the women were wearing long black dresses with big huge hats and this fish net material that covered their faces. I got up and made my way over to the group of people to see what was going on. As I got a closer look, I saw the women weeping. Tears rolled down their faces one right after another. Standing at the front of the box was a man, who was reading from a book and saying some type of prayer to the poignant group. In the prayer I heard a name I recognize, a name I have heard repeatedly throughout my time. Josephine Turner, it was my name! The box than began to lower and the weeping women cries progressively got louder. I didn’t understand why everyone was crying. I went up to the stone that everyone was crowded around to see if I could get any type of understanding of what was going on. On the stone there was a inscription like all other stones. A beloved daughter and friend, September 2, 1890 - 1923, may she rest in peace, Josephine turner. Was it true, was this my funeral. I am the reason for bring such sorrow to these people. I looked around but I am alive, I thought. “I’m right here, I’m alive” I yelled. No one even acknowledged my presents. No one looked up or even flinched. I shook a women vigorously, so that I could get some type of acknowledgement. Nothing. The people began to make their way back to their cars. “STOP! STOP!” I yelled trying to hold back people. Nothing worked. “I’m right here!” My eyes began to water and tears streamed down my face. There was no hope. I went back to the box. I saw myself being lowered in to the ground. Then men tossing dirt into the whole of where I laid. I the thought to myself about how all those people were there for me and that I was cause for their unhappiness, but why couldn’t anyone hear me, why didn’t they see me, I was right there. Then I wondered, was I really alive? Where am I….?



Photo taken by Jude Huff-Felz GRS member at the Bachelor’s Grove cemetery 8/10/91 http://www.ghostresearch.org/ghostpics/ghost3.html