The Old Catholic Church
This piece reaches out to the blunt and playful fourteen year old in everyone. This is the story of three fourteen year old children, an old Catholic Church, and a priest with a horrid comb over. This is the story of how I saw death for the first time.
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This is a rather short memoir of mine dealing with my first experience of a funeral. I wrote this piece for a college English course, it deals primarily with death, as told from my fourteen year old self. The funeral of my Grandmother took place at a beautiful Catholic church in Wisconsin and I, being fourteen, was not exactly sure how to come to terms with it. Directly after the ceremony my two cousins and I picked the lock of the old bell tower in the church and rang the bell. This is a memoir about finding oneself and dealing with unexplained feelings that death my cause. Death is universal, death is unavoidable. This memoir is by no means meant to be depressing, it is meant to enlighten, entertain, and spark reflection. It is meant for the fourteen year old within all of us.
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