Beautiful Funeral Novels & Stories

The last time there was a coffin at their house and it was his father's and that was the worst time of his life. Hamza pulled Hafsa away from the coffin as his men carried it up on their shoulders and headed out. Hafsa cried and screamed, she struggled hard to get free and run after Zeeshan but he held her tightly and pulled her to one of the guestrooms. She was crying hysterically as he asked Akram to stay near her. The funeral was done properly and he couldn't wait to take his frustration out. He went straight to the warehouse after the funeral. Hooriya jolted awake when she heard the loud banging of the door. She was crying and didn't realize when sleep consumed her. And now she was wakin

(2006) The rain poured down continuously. It was the type of rain that didn't come with the wind or thunder. It was gentle but non-stop. A way to make the funeral memorable; is Helen Maria Stone's funeral. Some would say the sky was also mourning the loss of a beloved soul. Beautiful cars, polished to a shine, lined the Streets of Colonia San Rafael leading to the cemetery, proof of the wealth and stature of the Stone family. The mourners dressed in black attire, huddled under black umbrellas, with white handkerchiefs used to wipe their tear-stained faces.

All this will be nothing but trash. After leaving Dustin's place, I made a beeline for Zephyr City's grandest funeral home. The ambiance was serene, with soft lighting and the mingling fragrances of lilies and candles. A somber-suited funeral manager approached me, his voice deep and courteous as he said, "Good afternoon. Whose funeral is it?" I cut to the chase. "I need a funeral. The most lavish one you can pull off. Don't worry about the cost." The manager blinked, taken aback. Then, he asked, "Forgive me, but whose funeral are we planning?"

Brad snorted at the end of his words and Nicole gazes up at him with furrow brows. "Brad? are you okay? are you imagining things now or what? Drake is dead, he's not coming back again, he's gone and his body is in the morgue now. When all this tragedy around us is over we will be burying him. Is that too hard for you to believe?" "That's not true. You're only saying what you know. My best friend is still alive, he's just sleeping...." "Sleeping? How can someone sleep for more than 48hours?!"

Until now, she'd always managed to keep it. The next three days blurred together. Phone calls. Casseroles she couldn't eat. Relatives who hugged her too tightly and said things like he's in a better place now as if that helped. At the funeral home, a director with a soft voice and a practiced smile guided her through a binder of caskets, starting, of course, with the most expensive ones. "This one is very popular," he said, pointing to a mahogany model with brass fittings. "Solid, dignified. Many families feel it honors the loved one properly."

After placing a kiss on top of my head, he made his way to the bathroom to shower. Hector set up the entire funeral outside in the family garden. Just as he said, it was gorgeous. The funeral was adorned with vibrant flowers, their fragrances filling the air as they swayed gently in the breeze. Soft, golden rays of sunlight filtered through the canopy of trees, casting a warm glow upon the gathering. Delicate white drapes fluttered in the wind, creating a serene and peaceful atmosphere for Gisselle's final farewell. Hector had put a lot of thought and care into arranging such a special occasion, which I greatly appreciated.

She finishes and the tears she struggled to hold back came crashing down her eyes. The funeral continued with a somber procession. As the procession made its way to the cemetery, the family and friends of the fallen soldier followed, tears streaming down their faces. Overhead, the soldiers marched slowly down the street, their boots in perfect unison. The sound of the drums echoed off the buildings, adding to the somber mood. At the head of the procession, a lone bagpiper played a mournful tune. In the distance, a church bell tolled. The rows of headstones stood as silent sentinels, each bearing witness to the ultimate sacrifice made by the soldier.

People filed out of the church, their sombre expressions reflecting the depth of our loss. I watched as my private security team carefully lifted Madame Beatrice's grave onto their shoulders, carrying her with the utmost respect and dignity. Together, we walked outside; the sun casting a solemn glow on the gathered mourners. The crisp air provided a stark contrast to the emotions that swirled within me. The journey to the crematorium awaited us, where my mother's earthly vessel would undergo its final transformation.

"Just let me go! I'll never fight with Samantha for anything!" She wanted my boyfriend and my family. I would give them all to her; I would not fight back. Simon stared at me with a deranged expression. "It's too late. Samantha is getting married. I want to give her a perfect wedding gift." I died. He scattered the parts of my body everywhere: into the cesspool, sewer, and even the garbage dump. "Samantha is the most beautiful and kindest woman in the world. As for you, you'll go to hell."

Friends and family mill around, their faces etched with sorrow, sharing quiet condolences and supportive hugs. Inside, the church is filled with the soft strains of Beethoven, the music echoing through the vaulted ceilings. The scent of lilies and roses fills the air, their white petals starkly contrasting to the darkness I feel inside. I take a deep breath and step forward, my heart heavy with grief. Damien really sorted everything as he said and I am grateful.