Today Forum, I share with you the draft of a eulogy I've written for my husband, who passed away this past Wednesday. Its a draft, and it has errors, but I thought it'd only be fair to give an explanation of my absence these last few days. If there's anything grammatically incorrect, or suggestions of things I should add, it'd be appreciated. I'm not a great writer, so don't expect too much.
The night of the Dylan was released from the hospital, we were watching a movie and out of the blue he asked me if I would give a eulogy at his funeral. I told him I didn't want to talk about it, but he insisted.
He told me that he didn't want a story about how amazing his life was, or how madly we fell in love. He said he wanted the truth. Specifically, quote on quote , "how much of an /donkey\" he was to me growing up.
So today ladies, gentlemen and anyone in between, I give you the truth.
The first memory I have of Dylan was at the park near our houses. I must've been 8 or 9, with Mrs. and Mr. Ceden. Dyl was trying to catch a snake, but his mom told him that snakes can bite and he could get sick. He didn't answer her, he looked at me and said, "Then I want Tiff to do it."
Flash foward to elementary school. One afternoon, I noticed something on the back of my sweatshirt. A note, in that familiar handwriting, "tiffany loves mr cuebel". The science teacher. For those of you here who went to school with us, I had a crush on the History teacher not the mad scientist.
Not long after, I caught a note being passed around, same shakey flat handwriting, "tiffany can't dance." Excellent timing too, three days before the Halloween dance party. Now don't get me wrong, the funny part is that its true. I can't dance.
One time, he went as far as to pour milk all over himself and said I did it.
Skip foward a bit more. Highschool. I was a year ahead for my age, a freshman at 13, the perfect person to pick on. Dylan was always a year behind because he was homeschooled, the perfect person to pick on me. The summer after my first year, we both went to music camp. I was supposed to bunk with two girls, sisters, whom I'd never met before. They tore up my music book and flushed it down the toilet- suprise suprise. I asked to switch rooms and guess who I got stuck with. Yep, my good friend from grade school and his friends.
I thought it'd be horrendously awkward, but, it wasn't. He gave me my space, and left me alone.
The first night, I put my pillow on the floor as far away from their beds as possible, which, in the tiny room, wasn't very far. I woke up shaking in the middle of the night, haunted by the same nightmare I'd been having for weeks. Silently, Dylan pulled me up against him, and we both slept on the little blanket on the floor. Unfortunately, his friends (you guys know who you are) woke up before us, and thought it was the funniest thing ever. I was a thousand percent ready for him to stick up for me, but he told them that I'd begged for him to stay with me, and that he just pitied me. I didn't finish music camp that year. A year later, at the very same camp, we were assigned to do a project together. We hiked into the woods, with a couple guitars. A few hours into playing, he kissed me. Naturally, I slapped him and ran back to the houses. Revenge maybe? But that's pretty much where it started.
Now that that's done with, my bit. Although he wasn't always the nicest, it didn't and will never matter. Some people deserve more than others. Dylan got about 9600 days, and he deserves an infinity more. But things never work out the way they should, and you can't change the past. The truth he wanted is that life sucks. Nothing is fair. Dilly believed the key to living happily is understanding that, and not letting it stop you. But I'll admit, I still wait for that morning I'd wake up, and see Dylan, happy and healthy sleeping beside me, our puppy at my feet. But that's just not realistic.
I'm not religious, but I hope that somewhere out there Dylan's going to wake up and see just that, a place where things are fair, and life isn't so suckish.
Thank you.
Thanks for reading guys. Have a great weekend.
PS, Mods, the @Dylan Ceden account can be closed.
The night of the Dylan was released from the hospital, we were watching a movie and out of the blue he asked me if I would give a eulogy at his funeral. I told him I didn't want to talk about it, but he insisted.
He told me that he didn't want a story about how amazing his life was, or how madly we fell in love. He said he wanted the truth. Specifically, quote on quote , "how much of an /donkey\" he was to me growing up.
So today ladies, gentlemen and anyone in between, I give you the truth.
The first memory I have of Dylan was at the park near our houses. I must've been 8 or 9, with Mrs. and Mr. Ceden. Dyl was trying to catch a snake, but his mom told him that snakes can bite and he could get sick. He didn't answer her, he looked at me and said, "Then I want Tiff to do it."
Flash foward to elementary school. One afternoon, I noticed something on the back of my sweatshirt. A note, in that familiar handwriting, "tiffany loves mr cuebel". The science teacher. For those of you here who went to school with us, I had a crush on the History teacher not the mad scientist.
Not long after, I caught a note being passed around, same shakey flat handwriting, "tiffany can't dance." Excellent timing too, three days before the Halloween dance party. Now don't get me wrong, the funny part is that its true. I can't dance.
One time, he went as far as to pour milk all over himself and said I did it.
Skip foward a bit more. Highschool. I was a year ahead for my age, a freshman at 13, the perfect person to pick on. Dylan was always a year behind because he was homeschooled, the perfect person to pick on me. The summer after my first year, we both went to music camp. I was supposed to bunk with two girls, sisters, whom I'd never met before. They tore up my music book and flushed it down the toilet- suprise suprise. I asked to switch rooms and guess who I got stuck with. Yep, my good friend from grade school and his friends.
I thought it'd be horrendously awkward, but, it wasn't. He gave me my space, and left me alone.
The first night, I put my pillow on the floor as far away from their beds as possible, which, in the tiny room, wasn't very far. I woke up shaking in the middle of the night, haunted by the same nightmare I'd been having for weeks. Silently, Dylan pulled me up against him, and we both slept on the little blanket on the floor. Unfortunately, his friends (you guys know who you are) woke up before us, and thought it was the funniest thing ever. I was a thousand percent ready for him to stick up for me, but he told them that I'd begged for him to stay with me, and that he just pitied me. I didn't finish music camp that year. A year later, at the very same camp, we were assigned to do a project together. We hiked into the woods, with a couple guitars. A few hours into playing, he kissed me. Naturally, I slapped him and ran back to the houses. Revenge maybe? But that's pretty much where it started.
Now that that's done with, my bit. Although he wasn't always the nicest, it didn't and will never matter. Some people deserve more than others. Dylan got about 9600 days, and he deserves an infinity more. But things never work out the way they should, and you can't change the past. The truth he wanted is that life sucks. Nothing is fair. Dilly believed the key to living happily is understanding that, and not letting it stop you. But I'll admit, I still wait for that morning I'd wake up, and see Dylan, happy and healthy sleeping beside me, our puppy at my feet. But that's just not realistic.
I'm not religious, but I hope that somewhere out there Dylan's going to wake up and see just that, a place where things are fair, and life isn't so suckish.
Thank you.
Thanks for reading guys. Have a great weekend.
PS, Mods, the @Dylan Ceden account can be closed.
