As I sit here and read your last rites, my moral compass is easing off like the shells that tumble off the tombstone that you lay quietly to sleep. Yes, we are all gathered here to pay rest to your moral demise and decrypted soul of a human being that you fancied yourself to be in the outskirts of death.
As I turn the page as I read your obituary, it gives me great pleasure to see your expiration on your tombstone. It might haunt others, but you are simply the epitome of what I consider to be a cower to life, and the only way to rectify your unfulfilled life is to bequest at the longitude of dormant positioning.
As I tower in front of your tombstone, it may bring others to tears, but it brings complete joy, satisfaction, and confetti to its feet.
As I evoke and exalt my presence, it was only befitting that you found exodus to achieve and appraise your self-worth. Manipulation and deflections of your soul can sum up in the café au late that you could muster to sip because your reality that was a fallacy, as your presence amplified your implicit folly of self-deprecation.
Imperial may be a sight of hope for many. Still, indemnification is the judgment that swallowed you like the ocean that decided a moment of cleansing as it repels the negative spirits that it needed to purge.
As the earth receives your coffin, tonight, it will be regurgitating your corpse as the body decomposes like the ashes of the volcano releasing sulfur in the air, and finding new soil turns a new leaf; it jeers at the irate life testimony that you dispel while on earth.
Conformed, plagiarized, contrived were some of the elements you embodied, but as I rest your head to sleep in your coffin, it gives me great infamy to introduce my new segment of glory.
Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of death. Glory Be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit.
You may exalt away from the preaching of Catholicism, as you were a true native of the southern border, but has pledged allegiance to Santeria, but forgotten your essence of accurate white-washed version an imbecile posing as an imposter to its master because you never had an intellectual breath to coexist in their presence.
It was very becoming of you, as a person at your tenure, to exert the embodiment of insecurity, embellishing on your shortcomings, every time you encounter your youth, it reminded you of all the years that you wasted on feverish matters, it reminded you all the things that you could have mastered, completed and have but like your salient passing, it was not significant. Still, the number of sex margaritas, among other things, was substantial.
Could anchor as a mentor, confidant as a yielded senior, you chose neither descriptions, but only doleful took place at this doorstep when approached with light, that signified greatness. Still, you were possessed to dim my light. Still, you didn’t realize that I am the full embodiment of the holy sacrament annotated with the blood of Jesus; your fellow southern border neighbor would echo in the chambers of divine baptism and shout out the sigh of hallelujah. Never ashamed to be annotated in all halls of the sacred prayers because I know who I am, but you never got to know who you were. That is why I tickled your fancy whenever my name echoed in the halls because it reminded you of your failures.
So, as we gather here today to put an expiration on your existence, I will say goodbye and wish that in your internment that you get a chance to fulfill all your desires, dreams, and aspirations and not limited to the healing that your soul needs to transition for the gate of heaven.
May your soul find what it needs.
As we stand before this body, we must therefore commit this body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life.
Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of death. Glory Be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit.
Amen.
Copyright © 2022 by Sherley Delia. All rights reserved.
Healing Majestically 