Funeral
431 creative works found
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Here a beautiful set of orchids that I turned white and black to make a dark feeling. If you like comment and check out my other pictures.
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I found this hat in a charity shop for £2! Wanted one for ages, it is bright turquoise colour thou!
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Walking down to the beach. It was a cool bleak day. These footprints caught my eye. The volcanic sand had flecks of purple in it which sparkled!. Quite a memorable experience
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Original acrylic painting on canvas.
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Acrylic painting on canvas.
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Title: Where She Sat / Camera: Nikon D80 / Capture Date: 10/01/2007 / Dimensions: / Exposure: 1/60 sec at f/5.0 / Focal Length: 93mm / ISO: 100 / Filter: None / Flash: None / Tripod: Yes / Uploaded Date: 10/01/2007 / Comments: Has she passed away? Did she leave him? You decide… © 2009 Charles Dobbs Photography. All photographs and artworks in this portfolio are copyrighted and owned by the artist, Charles Dobbs. Any reproduction, modification, publication, transmission, transfer, or exploitation of the content, for personal or commercial use, whether in whole or in part, without written permission from the artist is strictly prohibited. All rights reserved.
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Great as a wedding, get well or simply friendship card, this cloth rose was made with love…
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This photo was taken at the funeral of the first police officer killed while on duty in my city, Windsor, Ontario, in over 125 years. It was also the largest funeral in at least fifty years, if not longer. The officer’s children’s classes came, and as high school students we were paired up with them to watch them for the day. This was my student… I think he was ten at the time…
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At dawn, a cross can be seen, reaching over the tomb or sorrows. Yet it is a new day, and with the dawn comes, light and tranquility.
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Heartfelt Thanks
by Sarah MooreI finally have a few minutes to catch my breath and thank all of you from the bottom of my heart for your thoughts, prayers and incredibl…
I finally have a few minutes to catch my breath and thank all of you from the bottom of my heart for your thoughts, prayers and incredible generosity. The Redbubble community have been amazing and all my family and friend have commented on the love and support demonstrated by you all. I thought as so many of you couldn’t be with us at the funeral to celebrate Axel’s life, that I would put the transcript here along with some pictures. There were over 300 people at the funeral from all over Australia. It was conducted by a teacher from the school both Glen and I attended (my older girls also attend this school now), he has been a part of our lives for over 20 years and it was fantastic to have him as a part of it. Axel was carried in by his father, and 3 uncles to the The Book of Love by Peter Gabriel – it has always been one of my favourite songs. On top of his coffin Meg and Zoe placed an arrangement of apgapanthus (Axel’s favourite flower he used to eat them!) and a framed photo of him. I then read a poen written by Judy Walker titled Don’t tell me : Please don’t tell me you know how I feel, / Unless you have lost your child too, / Please don’t tell me my broken heart will heal, / Because that is just not true, / Please don’t tell me my son is in a better place, / Though it is true, I want him here with me, / Don’t tell me someday I’ll hear his voice, see his face, / Beyond today I cannot see, / Don’t tell me it is time to move on, / Because I cannot, / Don’t tell me to face the fact he is gone, / Because denial is something I can’t stop, / Don’t tell me to be thankful for the time I had, / Because I wanted more, / Don’t tell me when I am my old self you will be glad, / I’ll never be as I was before, / What you can tell me is you will be here for me, / That you will listen when I talk of my child, / You can share with me my precious memories, / You can even cry with me for a while, / And please don’t hesitate to say his name, / Because it is something I long to hear everyday, / Friend please realize that I can never be the same, / But if you stand by me, you may like the new person I become someday. Both Grandfather’s then said a few words together. Meg and Zoe have to be the bravest little girls in the world, they both wrote a speech and read it to Axel… —-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-- Meg As soon as you popped out into this world I knew you were going to be a cheeky rascal. You brought joy to this family, being Zoë and my first brother, mums first boy and glens first child. U defiantly grew up to be a real man, you had a great character that no one could ever replace. I’ll never forget how you use to wake me up in the morning, coming into my room and yanking on my hair or your kisses, your kisses were the best in the world. But the thing I’ll remember the most is the last time I saw you on Christmas morning, we were playing on my new toy and he said my name loud and clear he said “meg” and I will cherish that last moment with you for the rest of my life. I hope that you remember how much I love you’ll never forget about our family. Axel you brought joy to everyone and as glen said “ you lit up our lives.” I am soo truly glad you were in my life. And just remember I will never forget you ever. / / Nor your smile or your kisses and I always will the character you had, I will cherish you always and always remember that we all truly love you. —-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-- Zoë You are the best brother in the world and you still are even though you are in heaven. I hope you have a great time there, getting to know friends and family like warren, Paul, Matthew and my friend’s brother Harry. They will all be there for you, to play and to have fun. You will have the best time of your life in heaven. You were cute and so very cuddly to all family and friends. I am glad you still in my life and that you are my brother. Its sad that you had a short life and that you only had one birthday but we will still celebrate them, so you know we will never forget about you. You were a cheeky baby and that I will always be in my memories. I hope you will enjoy the presents Meg and I gave you, the Jessie doll and the care bear. You mean soo much to this family; it’s become stronger since you and Ty have been in our lives. I love you to as far as you can go and back, you are my best brother in the whole wide world. We all will be with you every step you take! Lots of love Zoe your big sister. —-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-- Glen and I were then able to get up and support each other through our memories of Axel… Glen A friend said recently “Your book is already written before you are even born” We believe that Axel was here for a purpose, his time was short but he touched everyone he met. His was a very short story but it was action packed. Being a father is something I never expected to happen. It has changed me in ways I never imagined. Axel became my best friend, my buddy, my little man. I came from a single life to a life with step daughters and a lovely wife. This began to mould me into a loving father and friend. I began to see that there was more to life than myself and that nothing could come close to life with a family. If Axel’s journey was shortened for a reason then it was this…to draw our family together tighter than ever before and to teach us that each day together is a blessing. Sarah My arms are empty but my heart and mind are full of him. The fun that we shared will remain forever etched in time. In our home there is always music playing and Axel loved to dance, his favourite music was rock – Jet, AC/DC and dance, anything with a beat. He had amazing rhythm, it would start at his head with a wobble, with merry eyes, his cheekiest grin would appear and then his hips would sway with his bum stuck right out. Finally he would stomp – the most hilarious thing you have ever seen, it would never fail to make us laugh. There was something about this baby that made him unique. He was a magnet, he could draw people to him without uttering a word. We often had people stop us in the street to comment on his smile, and they would thank us for brightening up their day. He was a naughty little snot at times, with a stubborn will (he got THAT from his mum), and a crazy temper (he got that from his mum too). But he always listened, he was willing to hear us and learn. The best part of Axel’s day was the moment his Dada arrived home. He would drag me to the front door and when opened would bolt to Glen…so incredibly excited that he was home. This little man was an unexpected surprise but he quickly became the joy of our lives, his love of life and infectious laugh brightened up the worst days. Glen Axel grew up in a house of laughter and joy, his sisters taught him to laugh, an amazing from the gut chuckle that rocked his entire body (so much so that last week he vomited mid laugh!!). He loved his sisters so much, he would light up every afternoon when they got in the car after school. Axel adored Ty, his little brother, he tried to share everything with him, toys, food, dummy, blankie, kisses with lots of slobber. We only had to warn him to be gentle and he would ever so carefully place a kiss on Ty’s head, only to rip the dummy out of his mouth as soon as we weren’t looking and run as fast as he could! He loved to be outdoors, if he was ever sad or upset you only had to open the front door and his face would light up and he was off exploring the world. He had no fear, he was always on an adventure, discovering new and amazing things every day. Axel loved life with a passion, and he loved people with a passion too…his grandmothers were no exception. He loved going to Nanna’s each morning to steal her keys, he adored spending time with Grandma Karen as she spoiled him rotten and he always remembered his Nannie Annie no matter how far between visits demanding cuddles immediately. Axel touched everyone he met. He is unforgettable, We will miss him forever. —-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-- During this time we played video footage from his time on earth – gorgeous happy memories…smiles and dancing and full of love. The family then got up and formed a circle around Axel holding hands, while Sweet Child of Mine by Guns n Roses played in the background. To finish off my father read a poem written by Daniel (DoctorJPhotography) Axel The gold in your hair / Is only a hint of the wealth I have in my heart Because of you And when the wind blows through it / It’s as if the very air around you takes no greater joy / Than in trying to match your spirit / In trying to take, if it could, just an ounce of your spirit with it / And you smile, as if you knew it Tell me, little angel How your eyes alone have lived for so many more years / Than the body that holds them Somewhere, in a place beyond what my mind can understand / You seem to walk so effortlessly through Tell me, my son When you fit yourself so perfectly into my arms / When your laughter becomes the one / Ballad written by God Himself / That silences all the broken drums It was as if everything about you, the purity of you / The you-ness of you / Every laugh, tear, and unintelligible word / Tried to tell a story / Of the place where you came from / More than what cameras, words, or minds could capture That I would be good enough / To watch you breathe as you dream / That I was worthy enough / To hold your head on my chest when you cried / That I would deserve / To have a little rain pour down on me / To make the fields in my heart grow just a little greener For one entire year / It will never be enough To simply call it the greatest gift I have ever been given / And to know it was mine For only one entire year / It will never be enough For whenever rain falls / It inevitably must float back to the skies from where it came / And I am thirsty again My dearest son / When I fly back home to you Promise me you’ll take my hand in yours / And never let me go. —-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—- To finish we played Tears in Heaven by Eric Clapton, after which we all went outside with a red balloon each which were released at 4.30pm (along with many other red balloons all around the world). —-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—- There are so many people that I want to thank, but there are almost too many to mention. I have been encouraged and supported by all your comments and bubblemails, as well as your images, poems and art. This is an amazing community! I especially want to thank Sam for being so amazing with my girls and organising the print / Bill Fonseca for taking the photos at the funeral (that must have been a hard thing to do!) / Steve McLaren for all his support and videoing the funeral / Sara Lamond for organising a condolence book at the gallery and taking many photos of our family at the mural yesterday / Jeffrey Hamilton for painting such an amazing mural for Axel
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Check out all my Cards here Klipz Card Shop /
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This was the Marine Bugler playing Taps at my cousin’s recent funeral. A veteran of WWII, Korea, and two tours in Viet Nam, he was laid to rest in the Levenworth National Cemetery. Critiques and/or comments are welcome
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Victorian gravestone, poignant in the half light, in the cemetery of a Norman churchyard in South Wales
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Pastels on Paper 120×90 cms / Sold the original. Watch hands on an ancient clock, slow but still moving. Clicking in the dark when there’s no one home. Echoing in a hall with light spilling in through the frosted glass. Like when the game is over and it’s time to hold and time to kill, the very very last drop of milk splashes onto the page and the very very dark blue moves in the corner. Walking with me to the end of the isle pewter cups full of thick liquid that catches in the back of your throat and makes you sputter like a fire or a kerosene heater or a lamp or an old sick car with students in it too dumb / to know / not to try. / No time to write or think or curl my fingers around, a dove’s leg curse or a jewel. Pierced, oh sure, like that a pinprick in an open sky, a babbling tower. Water from the sky from the ocean from the heart, clipped, triggered and muzzled, strapped to the enormity of it. Colour-blind and balanced, capsized and immersed, a bridge that’s a seething landscape. / Titan for a Tuesday, dry as a bone wrist or a Doll’s house in the desert. / It smells like strength and vicissitude with only what you want and a cold turned spoke. / Staggering and with a head full full of light, only small acts of kindness, what else is there to find for us silent at the edge of the day? / So then it’s only you and me in a saturated blue, long kisses hard into each other / sweat and confirmation, an engine of conviction, a weapon of devolution. / A slow turning and immense mill with a lidless sacrifice and an angry wasp, pulled from one strung heart sharp over ribs. There’s only breath and life / and no promises from either, go guarantor for me that I’ll be alone, / prove me right with skin that colour, hand that soft, a zealot with a placard walking in the rain. / Drama and faith are such poor excuses. / Only hints and grace, something gone, out into the soft and never ending night with a half heard cry. / I’m sad for you, baby. / I know. I know. / I saw the tremors and the shadows in the kitchen. Like leaves and seeds bent around a chain link fence on a quiet day. It’s only me, just me, that’s all. / I can come and visit and hold your head up for you while you try and sing, like before with both hands that you pushed to my throat. / Wait for me, oh wait for me baby. / I know my arms are empty and ugly and I have hard edges and sway and rock and twitch twitch twitch and I’m sorry for all these things and for the old woman made up for no-one and for the beautiful girl so autistic she couldn’t see and for the tiny mad child that I was / and for the tiny mad child that you were, dirty hands and sweet, / sweet, / bruised skin. / Twelve o’clock on a Friday night, / Run my hand down the side of my face. Crack each finger individually. Give up, give in. Whisper and kiss the side of my mouth. Someplace or something warm. It’s okay. / It is.
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Pastels on paper 120×70 cm Sold it and this is the highest res copy I have crrrrrrap. What the fuck is going on? What are we doing? How can we ameliorate our lives with simplicity when we know what we know? Or think we know. / Shit shit shit shit shit shit. / I have a huge lack of understanding. / That sentence was supposed to continue, but stopped somehow. Burns me up. You even have Cat In The Hat Pajamas, and I mean, how cool is that? / Excuse me, I just thought I would skirt ambitiously around the subject for a while. I have no idea what to say and am feeling a little romantically disturbed by attempting to begin to break my silences begin to gnaw at the old gauze, reeking and tough, that covers my lips. / So. Today is a day for honest extremity. Makes me feel more at home all of a sudden. I feel much more comfortable when everything confuses me. I always feel like some small and viciously real creature is crawling up the back of my scalp and whispering that it’s all a lie when I have some semblance of feeling in control. / Nothing like a spanner in the rabbit. / I have climbed my way back into my safety haven and behaved like I had supposed, had always supposed that I am supposed to. Security wraps its warm but a little spiky arms around me once again. I’m so desperately trying to sell out that I even manage to forget the oaths I swore to myself when I was a teenager… and when they creep into the back of my mind I slap them around with a few extra anti depressants and paint a happy picture (I am lying why am I lying I cannot and have never been able to cheat with the lines and colours of my work. They betray me in acuity, in dread. And the meds do nothing. I have taken none for months at a time, I have taken ten times the dose for months. No difference. Side effects. Shakes, rashes. A median of despair punctured with pinhole panic; with sobbing collapse. Degrees of sickness inviolate and unaffected.) You actually know what I’m talking about. How strange. Catharsis rears its unlovely head. / I have desires I can’t even begin to describe. There is something about losing your mind that is more real than anything else, more tempting and free; a claw hook in the back of a healthy brain. / I never thought you took me seriously. (Why would you how could you why would anyone?) / I have hesitated and stuttered and smoked too much and stared at you when you weren’t looking. Allowed myself to pine. / We are fools in a world that does not tolerate fools. / I have looked and looked, and I always thought that feeling this way and being trapped by the sadness, the sadness… / I thought – that this was a common excuse for not living. Not doing and earning like everyone else. / It isn’t a common excuse. It’s an uncommon reason. I would like to spend a week with you and just see how similar we are; just for once talk to you for long enough without being interrupted to know, maybe to just stop lying. Can you imagine that? Honesty in life seems impossible, but it might not be between us. / The fallacy expands. / How often do you lie a day? Think about it. Coming to each other and saying: / “Well, today, I really thought about suicide, and I had to make myself eat even though it made me want to puke. I felt each movement I took as a jarring blow. I spoke to other people… other creatures in the world even though I could not find my breath and I gasped and clenched my uncertain weak fists. I still spoke because I had to I had to and the rope the knife they swell rotten and sweet in every turn and thought and they live in the fear booming in my heart shivering through my feet as I step through the world. / “But I am alive and I have my hands before me and my scars are old. I have lied well enough to hide, for this time at least. / “I thought it took all the strength that I have to do these things, but it took more to them to you.”
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this picture says alot to me.. i’ve lost alot of people in my life… and anybody who has lost someone knows how it feels…. / even though it feels like things wont get better, they eventually do. / i call this photo “in loving memory” because the single rose reminds me of the people who have left this earth, with such grace and beauty. if you care to share a story of a loved one you’ve lost, feel free. You don’t have to.. but if you’d like to, i don’t mind. Rest In Graceful Peace : / Jordan Somerville – 18 years – ATV Accident – 2005 Brandon Southwind – 17 years – Suicide – 2005 Emily Morgan – 14 years – Awaiting her second double-lung transplant. Cystic Fibrosis – 2006 Stephanie Leung – 21 years – Allergic Reaction which triggered an Asthma Attack – 2007 Kevin Block – 21 years – Drinking and Driving Accident – 2007 Christie Rose – 18 years – Car Accident – 2008 Gone But Not Forgotten
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This was taken at my brothers funeral in october. My brother passed away on the 18th of July. He in times past showed interest in body donation. His body was donated to science, 4 weeks later we got him back in a box. It took me almost 2 months to open the box that he was sent in. I am not sure why….. Fear of the unknown I guess. It may have been that once was my brother was now a box that was no bigger then 12 by 12 and that was what we are… ash, dust in the wind to say the least. My Grandma stopped in front of the small box that now was my brother to say goodbye. Something that no one is prepared to do. / For every Christian Death is victory not defeat….. / canon30Dslr
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Poor George’s funeral. PLACED 3rd IN THE CANON PHOTO 5 GROUPS “PAPERCLIP” CHALLENGE .
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Most of you have already seen this picture: It’s the wonderful rework that my friend Johanne Brunet did on my original tulip picture (below). I am so proud of it I just wanted to add a copy to my portfolio as well. I would encourage you all to look at the same picture in Johanne’s portfolio, where she has very kindly described the process she worked through, to achieve this amazing result. It’s quite a tutorial! Our inspiration for the title was the Requiem (Grande Messe des Morts – Lacrymosa) by Hector Berlioz. Many thanks Johanne! My Original: /
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(Please, view larger). / Yewa is the Orisha of Death. She is a Virgin Orisha. Her priestesses are past their prime and always celibate. She is associated with Saint Claire. Her color is pink. When she dances at funeral rites she covers her face with two horse tails. She is queen of the underworld. She represents the spiritual side of the Goddess, the inward-looking, mystical aspects of being. This is basically a cinema 4D render; just a bit postwork to enhance the atmosphere. / (CINEMA 4D is a commercial, cross-platform, high-end 3-D graphics application, produced by MAXON Computer, Germany.)
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WHITE ROSE / Best viewed large. / / Significance: Purity, Innocence, Sympathy, Spirituality / / / “WHITE ROSE” was FEATURED in the group AW WELCOME CENTER / / / / / “WHITE ROSE” was FEATURED in the group IMAGE WRITING / / / / “WHITE ROSE” was FEATURED In the group FIRST THINGS / / / This was the first white rose I received this year, and it was / in a gorgeous, lavender vase with eleven other beautiful roses in my Mother’s Day bouquet. / / / With its pristine appearance, the white rose has come to symbolize purity, innocence and secrecy. There are myths and legends from several different cultures relating to the origin of the first rose which is initially white in color and is then miraculously transformed. Oftentimes the pure white rose was depicted as being stained by blood, or made to blush from a kiss. The recurrence of this theme does a great deal to establish the white rose as a symbol for purity. Early traditions used white roses as a symbol for true love, an association which would later become the hallmark of the red rose. White roses continue to endure and retain their symbolism of innocence, and they are used to express many things. Also known as the bridal rose, the white rose is a traditional wedding flower. In this sense, they are a representation of unity, virtue, and the pureness of a new bond of love. White roses are also a symbol for young love, and makes them ideal for marriages. Bridal bouquets are often comprised of white roses and other white flowers. White roses are also associated with honor and reverence, which makes them a fitting memorial for a departed loved one. Funeral and sympathy arrangements traditionally incorporate white roses as a part of the tribute. As a symbol of remembrance, the white rose represents heavenliness and is an expression of spiritual love and respect. . White roses can mean many things to many different people. They can symbolize new beginnings, or be a sign of farewell. They can convey feelings of love, friendship, respect and hope. Underlying all of these messages is the impression of innocence and purity with which white roses are now synonymous. Arrangements of white roses are most beautiful, but they can carry a mystery or a complexity that belies its simpler beauty. Whatever the reason white roses are given, they will surely be deeply appreciated! Information obtained here on the WHITE ROSE / / Photo shot with my Canon EOS 40D camera.
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I’d provide info on this, explain it, but it’s making me cry too much to type. Maybe later. Photo images and painting, in Photoshop Elements 3.
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