Jackie Hance Funeral Novels & Stories

Wu: Come now. Jacque wants to bury Wesley. And then a deep sigh eluded my cold lips as i put the phone away, shutting my eyes once more— When I think about you, flowers grow out of my grave, grave grave. ~ The doctor stood above us, peering eagerly in the document in his hands as i looked to Jacqueline, who was long gone in her grief to make a well functioning decision and that caused Harry to leave for a moment to only God knew where. “I want to bury him today” She insisted, not making eye contact with anyone. “I have to”

Everyone was in tears. After the talk, it was time to lead the casket to the cemetery. We found our way through the press with the help of our security team, and we got in the car heading to the cemetery. We didn't come down from the car; we just parked and watched as he lowered into the ground. Hazel and the kids completely broke down in tears. I took all our flowers that had notes attached to them and dropped them by his graveside. “Godspeed Lucas. Godspeed”

Then I saw Sophia right behind Jakes. Brian and several staffs from the Hallow-Hospital were there. The only people missing were the Halloways, except Sebastian. As I watched, a priest that I knew from childhood when I used to follow my mom to a Baptist church drove in and started conducting a funeral service. When the casket was opened for the final time before they lower it into the grave. Surprisingly, I saw myself lying inside the casket with worms crawling all around the casket and even on me.

On the day of my mother's funeral, I sat outside the chapel, crying so hard I could barely stand. Three days earlier, my father had told me she'd died in a car accident. He said her body was so badly damaged that I shouldn't see it. I wouldn't be able to handle it. I believed him. I put on a black dress and sat beside her casket all night. Ten minutes before the cremation, my phone buzzed. A notification popped up for a hotel livestream. I opened it and froze. My mother was on the screen in an evening gown, smiling as my younger sister, Nina Whitmore, handed her a glass of champagne. My father sat beside her, his eyes red. "From now on, Nina doesn't have to live in Evelyn's shadow or suffer

Tasha had wanted to come for moral support, but an emergency executive review at Vanguard had kept her chained to her desk. ​As the funeral service began, I stared at the polished mahogany casket resting above the dark soil. A small crowd of high-society mourners sat on the folding chairs arranged under the black canopy—most notably, a dignified woman in a black lace veil flanked by two teenage children, a boy and a girl, both weeping softly into their handkerchiefs. ​My father's other family. My step-siblings. ​I swallowed the lump in my throat as the minister spoke of Jonathan Vance's legacy, his achievements, and his love for his family. Hearing strangers paint a picture of a devoted patr

The night before our SAT, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Suddenly, my phone screen lit up. I received a text from an unknown number. [Tomorrow at 6:30 a.m.. Leaving for the testing center. Your sister disappears.] I stared at the screen, my heart jolting. I did have a twin sister, Molly Young, and we were both scheduled to take the test the next day. But what a pathetic prank. I tossed my phone aside, turned over, and went back to sleep. The next morning, we had barely left the driveway when Molly suddenly cried out beside me. “Oh no, I forgot my admission ticket.” “Dad, pull over! I need to go back and get it.”

After a moment, she said slowly, "Fine. I'll plead guilty. But I haven't arranged my brother's funeral yet. Give me some time." The officer nodded. "Our officers will stay with you until the funeral is over." "I understand." Zoey answered flatly, then got to her feet, her face pale, and called the cemetery plot salesman. "How much is your most expensive plot? I'll wire the money right now." I couldn't hear what the salesman said to her. She hung up without a flicker of expression and transferred the money. Over the next few days, everything she did was closely monitored. Unlike when she first learned of my death, she showed no emotion at all.

I silently remarked. In the end, I called the police and left the funeral amidst a torrent of curses and condemnation. Back home, I packed up mine and Mia’s belongings. My brother overseas, Wilfred Ford, called me. “Everything is ready. I’ve booked the tickets. I’ll pick you up when you arrive.” “Okay,” I replied. After hanging up, Mia grasped my hand tightly. “Mom, I’ll always stand by your side. You’re not a bad person, you’re the best.”

Harvey then called His Love Funeral Home Director, Mr Angel, and said, “Hello, Mr Angel. You are speaking to Harvey Stanton. Please meet me at OR Tambo International Airport in an hour.” Mr Angel nodded his head and asked, “Hello, Mr Stanton. I am sorry for your loss. Should I bring a coffin, Mr Stanton?” Mr Stanton shook his head and replied, “Please don’t bring anything, Mr Angel.” Then they hung up. When Harvey and others arrived at the airport, Kingston and Mr Angel were waiting for them. Mr Angel approached Harvey, and he greeted him with respect. Then he took the coffin from his arms and placed it in the hearse. Harvey looked at Mr Angel and said, “Thank you for coming on short notice,

I guess now, Selene could finally understand what it felt like when Lucian left me to stay with her during my final days. How ironic. … My funeral was held at one of the most exclusive funeral homes in Manhattan. I had made it clear to Milo that I didn’t want anything too grand. I didn’t want a crowd of people coming just to pay their respects. I asked for simplicity — just some close friends and family would have been perfect. I followed Milo into my own funeral. White lilies adorned the entrance, and from where I stood, I could see my parents inside, crying in front of my photo. My friends were there too, their faces a mix of grief and disbelief.