#Asian Funeral Services

[asianfuneralservices]

Everything You Should Know About the Professional Hindu Funeral Service London

Death is the ultimate truth, and no one can escape its claws. However, families have to perform funeral rituals when someone dies in their family. Though this is the most painful moment, as relatives, it is our duty to maintain such piousness. With a professional Hindu funeral service in London, the task becomes easier. Here is all about the Hindu funeral service.

Hindu Death Rituals

Hinduism believes in reincarnation. It means that once the death happens, the sound of the person leaves the body and never returns to it; however, it travels to another body, which is known as the birth of a baby. This is the reason the dead body gets burned at the crematorium. Since the process is complex and there are certain rituals that have to be followed in different beliefs, it is important to know the exact death rituals in Hinduism.

Washing- The ritual starts by washing the body with several ingredients like milk, honey, yogurt, and ghee.

Applying Essential Oils-  Applying essential oils is another part of the ritual. Sandalwood mainly applied for men and turmeric for women.

Dressing- No dead body left naked till it is on the fire. A simple white cloth sheet is worn to the person who has died. There are some stylish and pricy clothes are also used to perform this ritual.

Flowers and Rice- In some funeral process, the attendees are allowed to place a garland of flowers and rice balls around the loved once. Several leaves like basil also used to adorn the body.

Lighting Lamp- Lamp is important to place near the head as it signifies the purity and assists the safe journey of the soul.

Sprinkling Water- Sprinkling water on the body is a symbol of cleansing the dead body, and it is part of the ritual.

Conducting Hindu Cremation Process

According to the scriptures, the cremation should be done as soon as possible. It is ideal to take place within the first day. Meanwhile, friends and family come to the home to offer their last respects, and then the cremation process starts.

While carrying the body to the crematorium, it is important to bring the body from the side of the feet. Priests and mourners recite hymns that are believed to make the path of liberation easier for the deceased person.

Hindu funeral is complex and there are a number of rituals to follow. Asian Funeral Services offers professional Hindu funeral service London that can mitigate the hassle of funeral of your loved one. Avail of this service to simplify the process!

Resource: https://asianfuneral.wordpress.com/2024/06/22/everything-you-should-know-about-the-professional-hindu-funeral-service-london/

[harmonyuk]

What occurs at a Sikh memorial service is managed by the expectations of the Sikh religion.

[burst-of-iridescent]

atla live action thoughts: episodes 3 & 4

SPOILERS AHEAD

tw: opinions

things i liked:

jet, you beautiful, beautiful man. had me twirling my hair and kicking my feet fr i NEED this show to get a season 2 just so i can see more of him in the ba sing se arc please netflix

but looks aside, sebastian amoruso DELIVERED on the performance. the softness, the vulnerability, the charm, the intelligence, yet also the ruthlessness beneath it all? KILLED IT.

the moment between him and katara where he tells her to remember her mother as she was alive and not just her death was absolutely lovely. “remember the sunrise” made me very emotional

on that note, can’t believe jetara fake marriage is canon now lmao

i am SO here for desi omashu. i love the vibe and aesthetic of the city and again the visuals are STUNNING. live action repping the south asians better than the original ever did i’ll be honest

shameless fan service but “MY CABBAGES” being so fucking dramatic had me dying

of all the things i expected from the atla live action, secret tunnel and omashu being lesbians wasn’t even on the list but i’m not mad. hilarious that they turned the cave of two lovers into the cave of two platonic siblings though

jet, omashu and northern air temple arcs actually meshed together better than i thought. the NAT episode never sat well with me in the original so i’m glad they moved them to omashu instead.

the freedom fighters were RIGHT OUT OF THE ANIMATION. casting directors absolutely killed

love that they showed resistance movements within the fire nation and azula being part of rooting them out. it’s a nice nod to the deserter, since i’m guessing they’re not including that episode

really glad to see that the atla live action is following the tradition of having weirdly unnecessary zutara crumbs in every iteration of the story because what in the om shanti om was that zutara scarf moment. 10/10 no notes

having one of the earthbenders transporting iroh be angry over losing a loved one because of iroh’s siege of ba sing se was a really great change. i’ve always thought the original glossed over the true extent of the damage iroh did, so having him come face to face with what he’d done in the past was a great way to add some complexity

“how dare you beat up that child!” everyone go home seeing zuko being beat up by a random old lady is the highlight of this series. really love that they were just running around throwing things at each other that was major book 1 zuko/aang fight energy lmao

SECRET TUNNELLLLLLLL

leaves from the vine instrumental was 100% to inflict emotional damage and it fucking worked. the scene between zuko and iroh at lu ten’s funeral was so beautiful & then to have it flipped around at the end when iroh says “everything i need is on this boat”… fuck you for this netflix i didn’t need these tears today

things i disliked/am conflicted about:

not a fan of what they’re doing with katara’s character. they’re toning down a lot of her rage and fierceness, and boiling her down to “trauma over mother’s death.” in the original katara didn’t freeze jet and splash water at him because he tried to fight her, she did it because she was hurt and pissed off! there’s no way animated katara would’ve just run away from jet without sending a water whip at his face first. i’m concerned for how the pakku fight is gonna go tbh

bumi my guy, what did they do to you 💀 this series seems hellbent on having everyone remind aang that he ran away which doesn’t work when a) you already changed aang actively running away to him just going off for a break and b) you’ve made that point! the original omashu episode was about bumi teaching aang to look at the world differently, here it just weirdly feels as though he’s punishing aang by venting all his anger and despair on him?? that’s NOT what animated bumi was like & they didn’t even have the two of them go sliding down the delivery system in the flashbacks so adding it in at the end felt very out of nowhere. they didn’t even genuinely seem to be FRIENDS

having aang immediately figure out it was bumi was… sigh. can we please not do the thing where characters already know everything it’s giving me trauma flashbacks to the percy jackson show

jet’s plan feels more reasonable here than it did in the original. i get they’re trying to show that he didn’t care about the collateral damage to innocent people and that’s bad, but idk him wiping out an entire town unilaterally felt more extreme than a few bombings.

heavily dislike what they’ve done with zhao. i know they’re trying to show him clawing his way to power but that’s more of a long feng move than a ZHAO move. it’s important that zhao always holds more power than zuko and that he has an overinflated sense of ego from the start for him to fulfil his narrative purpose of serving as a warning to zuko of what he might become.

i like seeing mailee but why are they in this show? it feels as though they’re cardboard cutouts there for fan service instead of being actual characters

overall i liked these episodes better than the previous two & i do enjoy how action-packed and visually pleasing the show has been so far.

overall rating: 8/10 for episode 3, 7/10 for episode 4

[howlsofbloodhounds]

THE CROWSHIPPING TALK HAS SUMMONED ME!!!

the question of how dust would worship death has been in my mind forever and i still haven't decided how to go with it. i understand reaper and grim are based on greek mythology, so maybe a practice resembling ancient greek worship rituals? there are also modern pagan practices for greek gods as well.

though, i do think of murder's creator being korean, so maybe there should be some cultural references to that? i'm not korean, but i believe that chrysanthemums are closely related to death and rebirth in some korean regions. in east asian cultures, marigolds are often used for funerals/shrines/tombstones because they take a long time to wither away. korea also has a lot of different belief systems/religions, so that might prove a bit tricky as well.

however, since murder is a monster living in the underground, his beliefs regarding death and religion are not the same as humans. monsters might have their own belief system (the prophecy is one). so it just turns into a mushy pile of "how the hell is murder going to perform rituals" to me lol

~ crowshipping anon

I suppose it can be a mixture of all three; monster influenced, Greek, and Korean. He can scatter the monster dust on the things that were important to them, and perhaps he leaves them some gold or coin for the equivalent of the ferryman, and and perhaps he can place marigolds and chrysanthemums near, on, or around their important item or otherwise on their dust.

I suppose it’s important to consider just how much time he will reasonably have to dedicate to Death, and how often, and what he could be willing to do that is small, less time and energy consuming, but no less important or valued. (Murder not realizing just so much and truly and deeply loved he is by Death 💕).

And of course, how much he will be able to get away with and hide in Bad Sanses AU, considering he is under the care and protection of basically something like a God of Negativity—at least in comparison to Murder himself.

Not only do we all know that Nightmare is possessive, it might just frankly be insulting or offensive to do worship other God(s) or Goddesses while in the service of another, involuntary or not. Murder likely wouldn’t know for sure, but insulting Nightmare even unknowingly could be dangerous.

Elaborate rituals don’t have to be a frequent thing, considering how Dust is in a little war with the human and will likely be very busy in Bad Sanses AUs—taking into account things like his mental health and physical health, just how much energy he’ll be able to offer and do reasonably on a regular or even non regular basis.

Even as something as sharing a meal with Death—or inviting one or both of them to join him with his meal—can be enough, and could possibly even encourage him to drink and eat more frequently if he is sharing with or offering to his Gods.

The worship and devotional acts doesn’t have to be entirely death or underworld or afterlife related—the simple, mundane things would likely be appreciated, especially if they’re done by Death’s priest(ess).

Even dedicating time to learning more about Death and Their mythology, Their lore, Their history—Them—can be an act of devotion. Any specific self care ritual could possibly be as well—such as washing with a specific scent.

This may actually even be a common worry for Murder. That he isn’t doing enough, worry that having to hide it can be taken as being ashamed or embarrassed, that he isn’t able to do something for Them on a daily basis. Either because of “work” and having to survive such a hostile environment, or simply because Dust is too exhausted to even get out of bed.

Perhaps this is something Death will often try to reassure Their Priest(ess) about frequently, reassuring him that even silent prayer is more than enough for Them—and They are not going to get mad at him, or leave him, or otherwise punish him. They are not Nightmare, and They understand that mortals have limits and lives they must attend to.

I can imagine that being able to perform one of the big rituals is pretty exciting for Murder though. Especially if it comes on the heels of having finally found freedom and enough stability and energy to do it with a bounce in his step and a bright smile on his face.

[natlacentral]

For ‘Avatar’s’ Dallas Liu and Paul Sun-Hyung Lee, Zuko and Iroh’s relationship ‘was the most important thing’

One of the most emotional callbacks in Netflix’s “Avatar: The Last Airbender” is in the music.

The fourth episode of the series, “Into the Dark,” features a flashback to a funeral. As young Prince Zuko offers his condolences to his Uncle Iroh on the death of his son Lu Ten, the score transitions into an orchestral version of the familiar melody, “Leaves From the Vine.” The song, first heard in the animated “Avatar” series, has long been associated with the Fire Nation general’s grief.

“That wrecked me,” said Paul Sun-Hyung Lee, who portrays Iroh in the new live-action adaptation, now streaming.

“I only just heard the [new] song in December,” added Dallas Liu, who plays Zuko. “I started imagining our scene and [it] killed me.”

The live-action “Avatar” co-stars were in high spirits as they discussed the show and their characters’ relationship over coffee at a West Hollywood hotel earlier this month. (This reporter borrowed a page from Iroh’s book on the joys of spending time with fascinating strangers and opted for tea.) 

Both actors say they are big fans of the animated series, which originally aired from 2005 to 2008 on Nickelodeon. More than once they mentioned the high bar set by the original show and the responsibility they felt to honor its spirit (a previous attempt was not well received), especially because everybody else on set loved the show, too.

“Not even just me and Paul,” Liu said. “Our cast members, our writers, even our transportation and craft [services] team.”

“Avatar” is set in a world inspired by Asian and Indigenous cultures, where certain people have the power to manipulate elements through a martial arts-infused ability known as bending. The original series was the rare children’s cartoon that touched on weighty topics such as war, genocide and imperialism within a fantasy coming-of-age story of a young hero destined to save the world.

“Zuko is a character that I’ve always loved since my childhood,” said Liu of the exiled Fire Nation prince. He is desperately searching for the Avatar — a special bender reincarnated into every generation tasked with maintaining harmony in the world — in order to win his father’s approval and a way back home.

Accompanying Zuko on his mission is Iroh, a renowned general and former heir to the crown who’d spent years at the front lines of the Fire Nation’s ongoing war to conquer the other nations.

Iroh “seems very jovial, but you know there is way more to him than that,” Lee said. “He carries a profound sense of sadness and loss.”

Working within a franchise with a passionate fanbase is nothing new for Lee, who has appeared as New Republic pilot Captain Carson Tevain several recent “Star Wars” series including “Ahsoka” and “The Mandalorian.” But getting cast as Iroh has offered the “Kim’s Convenience” actor a chance to take on the challenge of portraying a character that is already well-loved.

For Lee, Zuko and Iroh’s relationship “was the most important thing to get right.”

“It’s such a backbone to [Zuko’s] story arc,” Lee said. “To his pursuit and where he starts and where he ends.”

Because while “Avatar” is a story that follows Aang (Gordon Cormier), the world’s last airbender, as he figures out how to embrace his destiny and become the hero he is meant to be, it’s also a story about the teens in Aang’s orbit carving out their own paths.

Knowing this, Liu appreciated that their “Avatar” explores Zuko and Iroh’s past a earlier than it was revealed in the animated show. While there are some hints, it’s not until the second season that the animation digs into the Fire Nation royal family’s (dysfunctional) backstory. And some flashback scenes, like Lu Ten’s funeral, are original to the adaptation.

“I was excited because there was no expectation for it already,” Liu said. “I think there are scenes and dialogue [from the animated show] that people are going to look for with a certain level of expectation. But for everything that is new for Zuko on our show, it allowed me to be an artist and be creative.”

These moments were blank canvases Liu relished. He explained that to prepare for the younger version of Zuko in these flashbacks, he took hints from what he learned from his time on “PEN15” watching creators Maya Erskine and Anna Conkle portray middle-school versions of themselves.

“I think I got to tap into that younger side of my own self because I do see similarities between myself and Zuko,” said Liu. “Especially 14-year-old Zuko because there’s no ounce of evil in him.”

Iroh is despondent at Lu Ten’s funeral, as a procession of guests stop by to express their sympathies for the death of his only child. When it’s his turn, Zuko only offers the sentiments that are expected of him at first. But then he shares more heartfelt words as he tries to console his uncle. It’s one of the show’s earliest looks at Zuko’s humanity and capacity for love.

“Dallas does some really, really beautiful work at that funeral scene,” Lee said. “That speech that he delivers is just so heartbreakingly beautiful and comforting. He does all the heavy lifting. I just needed to react to what he was giving me.”

Not for the first time, Liu is quick to respond to the compliment by expressing his own appreciation for everything he learned from Paul during their time together on set. 

“Especially that scene, and in a lot of our other emotional scenes, I can’t stress how much I actually relied on Paul,” Liu said. “He was always there every day to support me with honestly all of our scenes.”

Equally charming was when Liu tried to credit Iroh’s influence as the reason why Zuko is able to open up, for one brief moment, with Aang during another episode. Lee is quick to point out that Zuko’s compassion was something already within him from when he was younger, as seen in the flashback scenes. 

Lee is aware that “Avatar” fans have wondered whether he would sing “Leaves From the Vine” on the series. It was first featured in Season 2 of the animated “Avatar” in an episode that shows Iroh singing the song through tears after he sets up a small memorial for Lu Ten on his birthday. (That segment was dedicated to Mako, Iroh’s original voice actor, who had died before the episode aired.)

“I didn’t want to spoil anything … but I knew that one scene was coming up,” Lee said. It’s one of the reveals that leads to “everybody look[ing] at Zuko differently. I love that. This adaptation, it really is about subtext, past experiences, traumas, success, failures, all of that stuff.”

Both Liu and Lee hope that their Zuko and Iroh will get to continue on their journey.

“What I love about their relationship is, Iroh is there to give advice, but he never tells [Zuko] what to do,” Lee said. Zuko’s “got to find his own way, and he supports him. … I really do wish [we get] to do more [seasons], because I want to see that relationship flourish even more.”

[twopoppies]

Hi Gina! Thank you so much for taking care of everyone and everything today. <3

This is for the anons talking about funeral customs and cultural aspects of it. I totally understand how a Western/Catholic funeral might seem strange to other cultures. A family friend of my family is a mortician, and I thought I might share what I know from them.

First of all, I saw that people seemed to be confused about what the term funeral means. Like an anon said before, the casket (it’s not a coffin if it’s shaped like a rectangle, it’s a coffin if it’s shaped like a human) being present at a funeral doesn’t mean someone was buried in a coffin/casket at the cemetery the same day. Burials (where you put the coffin in the ground) can happen after the funeral (the service at church to remember someone) but they don’t have to. The casket might have been taken back to a funeral home by a hearse for a burial to happen at a different place and/or time or for the body to be cremated. Cremation and burial are what happens with human remains in the UK, with about 70-80% of people being cremated in England.

Now, for the gravesite, bodies and urns don’t have to be put in a cemetery in the UK. Home burials are not forbidden. And it’s allowed to keep someone’s ashes at home or scatter ashes (with the permission of the land owner) in the UK, too. The only rules is that the ashes have to be kept safe in urn. Usually, they’re sealed in a plastic bag and then placed in a decorative urn (side note, the thing that happens on movies sometimes with an urn dropping and ashes scattering everywhere is not true to reality).

Notable cultural differences in funerals are that in Arabic/Muslim countries there’s no cremation and no burial in a casket/coffin. The body is wrapped in three to five layers of cloth to my knowledge. In Hindu culture, all bodies are cremated and the ashes scatter in water. Unfortunately I don’t know about funeral customs in Jewish culture or Eastern-Asian countries.

I understand that seeing Liam’s funeral differing from what you’re used to might cause you to feel an unease, especially when religious beliefs are tied to your culture’s funeral customs, e.g. the soul being freed when the ashes are scattered in water (Hinduism).

I hope this helps anyone understand why they might feel like they’re feeling right now or understand how others feel.

Take care everyone! <3

Thank you so much for this, sweetheart. It's really fascinating how different cultures approach death.

[raayllum]

Something that’s important to me is that, effectively, Rayla is a nobody. 

While Callum is the only character not necessarily tied to the Plot by birth - it’s more accident, happenstance, and reaffirms him feeling out of place / being ‘ordinary’ in comparison to Ez (crown prince) and Rayla (a prodigy) who both inherit very specific parental baggage (be king; be an assassin or dragonguard) - Callum soon finds something that arguably makes him the most unique/special because of the broader implications of it. If he can connect to a primal source, then other humans can too, and that makes the ramifications of his existence massively important (arguably the most important in some ways). Then as of S4, he does hold position at court (high mage) and is also crown prince on top of that.

Meanwhile, Ezran is subversive for getting the classical prince to king ascension arc as a Black-Asian kid, and growing into a role that’s both passed down to him and one he fully chooses and finds worthwhile, if also overwhelming because of his youth. Ezran, unlike Callum, was also the known son and original target, so his life and death hinging on the concept of what true Justice is is also super loaded. 

And then you have Rayla, who inherits the same parental baggage as Ezran... but eventually tosses it away, rather than acclimate it. She is, from her very first scene, defined as a failed/bad assassin. She’s a dragonguard, and then leaves that behind too. Her parents were ultimately servants of the draconic royal family, not rulers themselves, and they died in that line of service (as far as she knew, anyway). Her village has disowned her. If she died, only a small handful of people would care, and even less would know; that’s a far cry from the kingdom wide funeral processions we know the boys would holster, and Ezran’s council and their remaining friends and family who care deeply about both of them.

And I think it’s this lack of connection that it makes it so easy for Rayla to risk herself. “I’m not an assassin, or a hero,” she says in Bloodmoon Huntress. “I’m no one. I couldn’t even stop my own parents from leaving.” (Which is a nice parallel to Callum’s “I’m no one” from 1x03 before being called a mage, and a reflective parallel of how Rayla may feel in S4 onwards as she figures out who she’s going to be now.) And again, just... the person who feels like no one, the person who’s sure that they matter less, mattering more in the end to their loved ones than anyone is just... so sweet to me. She deserves it

[mactavishwritings]

(TW ANGST? Death?)

Super specific and detailed but I had an idea of something with maybe the reader is a sort of engineer in the 141 and ends up getting close to Ghost, but freaks out and leaves bc theyre pregnant without telling anyone but maybe Laswell or Price bc they're on a super high stakes mission, and end up returning to the team like a few years later and dying but somewhere in the future the 141 is retired or a little older, but Ghost finds out his son is a super skilled mercenary/ninja type?

(Implied Asian reader but it's cool if not? idk again, super specific)

you didn’t want him to leave the service, knowing how much he loved his job so you decided to leave. to be transferred to a different unit in a different country.

you had your baby, raised him, and whenever he asked about his father, you told him about the Ghost you knew. your son is was a very active boy and you had a hard time keeping up.

the mission you went on had its risks. your son was 16 and knew about your job. you never made a promise to come home because you both knew that there was always a possibility you wouldn’t. you prepped him for this day and it finally came. you were killed in action and your son vowed to avenge you.

it was because of the funeral invitation that the 141 boys learned of your passing. all of them went and Ghost made eye contact with your son, feeling a sense of familiarity within him, but didn’t approach. after the funeral, your son asked to have a private word with Price and that’s when your son joined the military under Price’s eye.

when your son was finally old enough, he joined the 141 on a mission and got strange looks from the team because he was dressed in all black with accents of red. his weapon of choice was two long blades and he had a reputation of being silent and absolutely deadly. when Price introduced him to the team, he had your last name and that immediately caught the attention of the whole team.

that’s when it clicked for Ghost and he took your son under his wing the entire mission. he protected him on all future missions they went on because Ghost knew you would want him to.

[felipeandletizia]

Felipe and Letizia retrospective: February 7th

2004: Dinner at the Royal Family’s traditional winter holidays spot, the valley of Aran.

2005: Funeral service for eighteen victims who died in a country house from carbon monoxide poisoning & Received Asian volunteers in the Royal Palace to pay homage to their work during the tsunami disaster.

2006: Opening of the International Construction, Kitchen and Bathroom Fair in Valencia.

2008: Opening of the of the new facilities of the European Space Astronomy Center (ESAC)

2012: “Circulo de Economia” Foundation Awards 2012 in Madrid.

2013: Audiences at la Zarzuela

2017: Event celebrating the 30th anniversary of the Expansión newspaper

2018: Announcement of the winner of Princess of Girona Foundation’s awards in “Arts and Letters” 2018 (1, 2, 3, 4) & 12th Cotec Europe Meeting

2019: Royal Theatre Foundation meeting

2022: Meeting of the Board of Trustees of the Leading Brands of Spain Forum Foundation

2023: State Visit to Angola, day 1

F&L Through the Years: 1129/??

[asianfuneralservices]

Discover compassionate Indian funeral directors near me, offering understanding and support during challenging times. We are committed to honoring cultural traditions and delivering personalized services that reflect the unique customs of the Indian community. Contact us today! For more information, you can call us at 020 8909 3737 or 07737 051232.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

Death and Funerals

"Although many Catholics were willing to leave the church for the sake of fraternal bonds, their efforts to combine the two pointed to the importance of their faith and a very real fear of dying without priestly absolution. In the mines and other workplaces, sudden death was an ever-present danger. Even nominally Protestant men who absented themselves from church except for an occasional fraternal parade sought its rituals when they died. Most wanted a minister to officiate at their funerals. Bishop Hills of Victoria grumbled in his diary about the frequency with which he was asked to officiate at the burials of people of “doubtful morals” who had never attended church. In February 1890, he recorded that

today was the funeral at the Cathedral of a Mr. Roller, a German keeper of a Theatre of not good reputation. It is difficult to refuse these applications for Burial Rites over those who not only have never belonged to us but are of a disreputable character. There was a large attendance of a class of persons who are never seen in a place of worship.

Reverend Grice-Hutchinson was also asked to bury men who had never attended his services. The Slavic Catholic layman who asked Bishop Dontenwill to send a Slavic priest to Fernie remarked that less than a third of his compatriots normally attended church but that at funerals you may “see church crowded with Slavonians up to door.” In 1895, the Anglican bishop of New Westminster was asked to bury a miner near New Denver and recorded that his workmates

seemed grateful out of all proportion to the service I had done, but I understood it. However reckless their lives, they hate the idea of being buried ‘like a dog.’

A small minority, generally the most committed atheists, left directions that no “sky pilots,” a slang term for ministers, were to officiate at their funerals. Other non-Christians were equally clear, such as the ex-mayor of Victoria, a spiritualist, who instructed that “no other Service should be said over his body but the form used by the Odd Fellows.” Most people who barred ministers from their funerals had no desire to be buried “like a dog.” Some were interred with due ceremony by the local fraternal order to which they belonged, and some received the “obsequies” delivered by a miners’ union, which was involved in many Kootenay funerals. However, even these funerals often had one or more local clergymen officiating. An examination of three Kootenay newspapers reveals that a minister presided at most funerals in these communities. In some cases, this may have reflected the wishes of the more pious spouses, mothers, or other relatives of the deceased, but given the large number of BC men whose families lived elsewhere, it seems likely that, except for committed atheists, they tacitly accepted the value and legitimacy of having a minister preside at their funeral. Particularly in the Kootenays, most of these men would not have been church members, and many probably never went to church. John Houston is a quintessential example: though he spent his career criticizing Christianity and meddling moralistic churchmen, he was buried by a Presbyterian minister. Clearly, churchgoing was not part of their sense of manhood. Churchgoers could be everything that manly men were not: feminine; craven hypocrites who supported oppressive employers; effete easterners who attacked working men’s right to their few enjoyments and who worried more about saving the souls of Asian immigrants than about preventing them from stealing the jobs of white workers. However, it seems that for most, some basic elements of Christianity itself were not antithetical to their sense of masculinity. Christian hymns could provide an emotional link to faraway families, and practical Christianity could serve as the moral basis for relationships in homosocial culture. And for the majority, receiving a proper Christian burial was integral to a sense of decent manhood, or indeed of their very humanity. The fact that the funeral could end with a “drunken orgy,” as more than one appalled minister testified, made perfect sense among working-class men in British Columbia."

- Lynne Marks, Infidels and the Damn Churches: Irreligion and Religion in Settler British Columbia. Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 2017. p. 96-98.

Image is taken from the book, captioned: Funeral at Atlin, 1899, probably held near a mining or logging camp. Note the absence of women | BC Archives, D-01507

[iheartchv]

Hi could I get a Bayverse 🐢matchup please?

I'm Macie, she/they! I'm 5'7, plus size. I have curly brown hair that reaches the base of my neck. I wear glasses, have pale skin, green eyes and freckles along my nose, cheeks and shoulders.

I was born and raised in Texas (unfortunately). I have an accent, and while it's not super thick, there are certain words that I say that make me sound like a bumpkin! I'm currently learning Spanish and ASL.

I'm shy at first but I tend to get more chaotic and loud as I get more comfortable around someone. I feel like I'm pretty witty and can mouth off some pretty funny remarks on the fly (thanks to the constant ribbing and chirping my 3 siblings and I gave each other throughout childhood and into adulthood).

I'm currently a laboratory technician but I'm working towards getting my BS in Mortuary Science, wanting to one day owe and operate my own funeral home.

I hate arguing but I'm definitely not a pushover. If I see something messed up, I'm gonna speak up. (I truly feel like I would've gotten up in Leo's face during the "The only opinion that matters is mine" scene. Bad move, my guy.)

While I have made strides over the years to love and accept my body for how it looks, I still have bad days when my confidence takes a hit. Especially when someone made a certain comment to me. Saying that I work in the medical field so I should know how unhealthy it is for me to be the weight that I am. So yeah that was fun 🙃

I love to read, write, sing, paint, sing, play drums, and tour historical cemeteries. I love sweets and just about any Italian or Asian cuisine. My favorite colors are black and purple, but my favorite shade of purple is lavender.

My love languages are physical touch and acts of service.

Thanks in advance 🐢💙❤️💜🧡

You're paired with... Donatello💜

Donnie would fall head over heels for you

Literally

He'd almost trip over his big feet if he sees you

He usually was calm cool and collected

But not around you

Your witty mind mixed with his sass is chaotic

Thats what your friendship started as

But as he got to know you more he started thinking more about you

Even dream about you

... even a spicy dream a time or 2🔥

It was probably when he tried to tell you and reassure you that you were perfect the way you were

He would feel ashamed feeling that way towards you because he didn't want to ruin your friendship

It'd kill him if he never got to see you or talk to you again

But he couldn't help these feelings

From your accent down to your personality he just thought you were perfect

And he wanted to show you how perfect you were... to him

When you two started dating he treats you like a queen

He will do things for you

He will give you plenty of hugs and kisses

He's very supportive and will do what he can to help

You're his world

Your happiness and well being is important to him

"Love you, turtle dove"

🐢💜💖👩

Hope you like your match 👉💜👈

[funeralflowersguanqing]

funeral flower stand

A funeral flower stand is a thoughtful and elegant way to express sympathy and respect. Typically arranged with fresh, seasonal flowers, these stands are designed to convey condolences at memorial services or funerals. They come in various styles, from simple to elaborate, offering a fitting tribute to the deceased. A funeral flower stand provides a meaningful way to honor a life and offer comfort to grieving families during difficult times.

https://funeralflowersguanqing.com.au/product-category/chinese-funeral-wreaths-asian-wreaths-stands/funeral-flower-stands/

[barongsrus1]

The colored barong Tagalogs are certainly statement pieces on special occasions. These barongs boast Filipino traditional heritage with a modern twist. Nowadays, barong tagalogs are usually worn during weddings with varying colors like black, apart from traditional cream or beige colors. In this article, you will learn how to pick the ideal black barong for various occasions.

Understanding the Occasion

Weddings are not the only special occasions where wearing a barong tagalog is acceptable. Special occasions like galas, formal birthday parties are also ideal for the black barong. In choosing the perfect barong, it is essential to consider personal and traditional aspects. The occasion itself influences the design and style choices of the wearer. Occasions that also consider these traditional Filipino clothing pieces are events that represent the Philippines.

Styles and Variations of Black Barong Tagalog

There are various barong styles where wearers can opt for a more traditional appearance or a more modern approach with colored barong tagalogs. In fact, barong designers offer customers various materials and embroidery styles, coat designs, sleeve lengths, colors, and more. Also, different button front styles are available nowadays for people looking for a black barong fit for the occasion.

Considering Fit and Comfort

Upon purchasing a stylish barong, customers usually fit their chosen pieces to see if the attire is flattering and works for them appropriately. Even if these clothing pieces are so versatile, the fit plays a significant role in the overall appearance of the special celebration. Barong designers usually offer tailoring services to ensure customers that the barong is properly tailored to their unique proportions.

Embellishments and Details

The embellishments and details on a barong should fit the special occasion. Black barongs are often worn on sad occasions like funerals in the traditional Filipino setting. Thus, choosing the appropriate barong with the right embellishments and details is vital. Favorable special celebrations deserve all the embellishments and details fit for the occasion. These features in a barong showcase the talent of Filipino designers and how they incorporate modern designs into traditional Filipino clothing.

Coordination with Other Attires

The black barong is a statement piece in itself. Coordinating this piece with other clothing that blends with the entire ensemble fit for the special occasion is important. In fact, matching accessories and footwear is something to consider when wearing one to elevate your overall look.

Cultural and Symbolic Considerations

The barong tagalog holds a significant role in Philippine culture. Designers usually incorporate specific embroidered patterns or motifs that symbolize Filipino culture. These traditional clothing pieces are modern-day ways to honor traditions while making a stylish barong statement.

Celebrity Inspirations

Numerous celebrities now showcase their Filipino heritage worldwide by opting for a black barong. Here is internationally-known Filipino Singer AJ Rafael at the Los Angeles Asian Pacific Film Festival wearing a black barong from Barongs R Us. With this, more and more interested individuals are inspired to wear one, as many celebrities have inspired them.

Conclusion

Colored barongs are certainly a statement clothing piece. Modern barongs showcase intricate designs and colors that boast Filipino culture and history. To find the perfect black barong tagalog for special occasions, visit us at Barongs R Us. Our pieces are well thought out and ensure that the beautiful Filipino culture transcends our clothing suited to you.

[kokoro-no-kintsugi]

Session II

CW/TW: mentions/allusions to ab-se, r-pe, s-bst-nce use, s-lf h-rm, s--cide attempts..a lot. Proceed with caution.

"I think it's time to get into the thick of it. Can you tell me what makes you hate yourself so much?"

Sure, I guess. I'll give you the long version.

It started when I was very young. It started with angry words from shouting voices that belonged to the people meant to love me and keep me safe. It started with abuse from otherwise trusted babysitters. It started with me being wrong for protecting myself, with me being too much, with me not knowing any better when I was barely conscious as a person yet.

Nobody remembers the bad things except for me. I guess it's easy when that's just a weekday afternoon for them, but I unfortunately took it as trauma in my formative years.

I'd like to say it got better. Sadly, no, as I aged into school years, I found out that you cannot beat perfection into a kid, but you can beat them into being a perfectionist for the rest of their lives, apparently. You can make them terrified of being themselves if "themselves" were seen as a child with "behavioral problems". You can make them overly analytical and second-third-fifth guess themselves because mistakes are not tolerable.

That's when the family deaths started. A man I was not blood related to that had treated me like his own grandchild since the day I was born, and one of the scarce amount of family I did not feel the pressure to put on a perfect kid act for, and arguably my favorite adult in my life back then..I'd watched him lose toes, his foot, and eventually his leg up to the thigh, along with his kidney function. But no one expected when he went under for surgery the last time that it would indeed be the last time. I balled my little eyes out for him. When he passed, he also took any relationship I thought I had with my grandmother with him. As I know now, good riddance. As I knew then, though, why didn't she want to spend time with me anymore? What did I do wrong? I learned many years later, she wished that my father--and by proxy, myself--didn't exist at all.

Then it was a distant great uncle, whom I'd only ever known as a funny family nickname until I saw his obituary. Another adult I'd loved to spend time with, although it was rare due to the distance. He taught me about his garden, how he'd save table scraps from his and his wife, a sweet Asian woman he'd brought home with him after a war, and turn them into compost. Turned out that soy milk and tofu were pretty good when he'd let me try them. His funeral was tough, being tired from the night before...

The night before, turns out I was just small enough to be slid through my aunt's kitchen window. My uncle, who had a penchant for alcohol, had fell asleep (so we thought) on the couch in the back room, leaving my aunt effectively locked out of her house. We couldn't have that, my dad and I, so we helped her get back inside so she could work on cooking food for the next day (we tended to eat a lot after funerals, perhaps that explains why my depression/grief always has such an appetite). Our aunt, however, was unable to meet us for my great uncle's wake. Fresh from the memorial service, a phone call struck us all like lightning; we were meeting her at a larger hospital in the city we'd traveled to for the funeral. My uncle, sadly, had not been sleeping when we'd broken my aunt back into her home the night before. My aunt discovered the next morning when he'd still not moved from the couch that he was unresponsive and that something was very, very wrong. That something being a brain aneurysm. He'd been airlifted from our small town to the hospital we'd be headed to shortly. I sobbed into my slightly older cousin's shoulder and her into mine; it's not exactly a picnic as a kid to walk out of a funeral basically into the next one in progress.

I'd never felt such a level of grief in my life until then, yet I remember my older family harshly quieting us down instead of giving us any sort of consoling. I, at some point, had taken this as emotions are meant to be quiet, bottled up, and dealt with alone. Terrible lessons for a child, I know, but I guess they didn't.

Somewhere in there, I went from being an only child to being an involuntary third parent to three siblings, who went from being difficult because they were infants to being difficult because of their own mental dissonances. As I like to put it up, we're all very different shades of fucked up.

Then, I was a teenager. A 14 year old with a quiet rebellious streak and a fondness for an older boy. An older boy that had his own problems and abuse he faced at home. An older boy who needed a pretty punching bag. It was mostly emotional abuse, destruction of any self worth I'd tried to make for myself, sexual abuse..though, I'd gotten pushed around and mistreated physically from time to time as well.

I got taught how to shut up about my feelings a lot more efficiently. Also, as a testament to the impressionability of a young teen, I learned a new method for dealing with pent-up pain, hurt, and growing self-loathing from a television show. I put a knife to my skin for the first of what would be many, many more times. I lined my arms with neatly spaced cuts, feeling some sort of relief when they welled with droplets of blood.

Sandwiched in the middle of said mistreatment, I met arguably the worst person I ever could have--the only good to have come from meeting him is that it lead to my current life. Just freshly over the line for statutory status in my state, and desperate for a love that didn't hurt, I happily threw myself at him. He seemed to give a damn about the scars on my wrists and my wellbeing in a way that no one else had been in my life so far. I sure as hell didn't give two shits that he was 5 years my elder, I mean, I was already with an older (17 to my 15) boy right? What's the difference? I spent a weekend with him behind my parents backs, and in the process learned that women could in fact be on the receiving end of sexual favors (I'll let you figure out why I didn't know until then).

The next weekend, I tried to spend with him too. I felt loved and happy for once, and I felt like a junkie looking for my next high as I hoped to spend more time with him. My father, though, being off that weekend, was meticulous in trying to keep up with his eldest daughter in the way that he always was until I moved out on my own. I was caught in my lie, and when what happened beforehand came out, my parents were angry in a way I'd never seen before. Having to tearfully explain it all over to a police officer, being forced apart from someone I cared about until I was at least 18, and being threatened with a military/corrective academy/group home when I did try to contact him one more time... I'd never felt more hated as a person than I did then.

Until my freshman year was over, I spent my time at school in constant tears and watching the great grades I'd once had slide quickly into the garbage. I knew what was ahead of me that summer anyway; any contact I could've had with the outside world was to be cut off, and I'd be stuck in a house with siblings I couldn't help but resent at the time and parents I was convinced didn't even want me as a kid anymore.

I think I made it nearly to July before I tried to ride the sewer slide into what I hoped would be a forgiving afterlife. I still remember the feeling of the overdose rather vividly. I grabbed a bottle of pills of mine that weren't being used and wouldn't be missed--I swallowed what was in the bottle. I hadn't researched this in any way of course, so it most likely wasn't a deadly dosage. But the feeling of losing feeling in my legs sure felt like my soul was being lifted from this heavy waste of a body, so I pulled myself onto my bed and fell into a silent darkness.

From my best guess, I woke up a day later. My absence hadn't been noted, and I felt an extra curse on my being that I was still alive. Why did I continue to survive in a world I wanted no part in? (I guess so I could get to where I am now..)

Sophomore year came finally to save me from my crippling loneliness. I slowly fell back in to some sort of normalcy, and took on a new personality in the form of ROTC. The rigid structure rekindled my need to excel, and I eventually leaned so far into it that, in the moments that my older boyfriend from prior didn't manage to dash it, I reclaimed some sort of power for myself. I made friends, I worked hard, I cut my hair short and leaned into the person I wanted to be.

Which was easier before the sexual assault. An older cadet had taken note of me, and decided to prey upon my naivety in the form of a late evening outing to a private pool. Why not? I trusted my fellow cadets well enough. In the swimming we'd done before the sun fell down, I found myself constantly fending off advances. I tried very hard to convince him I wasn't interested. So, he finally said he'd take me home. Crisis averted, or so I'd hoped. Wrong.

I had no idea what road we were on, out in the countryside in the dark now. I had no idea why he'd pulled over and parked until he was on top of me. I begged him to stop. I just wanted to go home. He'd forced himself inside and if I hadn't thrown him off by making up a pretend phone call with my "worried mother", I don't want to think about how much farther it would've gone. When I finally stumbled through the front door in the pitch dark, that same "mother" half-asleep on the couch, asked if I'd had fun. I'm sure I mumbled something to get away to my room and fell asleep in tears.

I wish I could say I had some time that summer to process what happened to me, or even talk to somebody about it. Of course though, I didn't. Story of my life so far (ha ha, I'm funny).

July the 4th. One of the last days I would spend with my first boyfriend. We were part of a bigger group of friends hanging out in a friend of a friend's pool, and I thought we were having fun. I guess, though, my playfulness had come off as aggravating, and I was swiftly punished in a way that I still can't quite shake to this day. He shoved my head under the water, and as my playful squirming quickly devolved into panicked struggling, I felt myself honest to god drowning under the arms of a boy that I had spent the last two years loving and serving as an unofficial girlfriend. Before I could feel my mind slide completely from the lack of air, I aimed my teeth at his chest and bit him with everything I had in that moment. Finally, I was let go, and as I broke the surface, I could barely take in any air for the coughing up of water.

A couple of friends tried to tell him he'd done something fucked up just then, but he shrugged it off. The day ended with his apology of "if I'd meant to drown you, I would've fucking done it." One friend in particular had stayed in my aide, and I tried to take solace in it.

Too bad that it had to be another boy with nothing good on his mind. That also couldn't take no for an answer. Imagine white knighting a girl from an abusive boy just to drag her out to your remote, empty house with no cell signal and turn 10 "no"s into a "whatever, get it over with". I'm glad he found somebody else to date when junior year started, because the last thing I needed to do was be romanced by another creep.

Except, to no one's surprise at this point, I was. Just not the same guy from above. It wasn't an uncomfortable relationship at first, we'd struck up a quick friendship in ROTC, and I quickly became his long distance now-exgirlfriend's public enemy number one. She brought out the worst in me, causing my mountain of insecurities and once targetless rage to culminate in a hateful campaign against her. I did things I wasn't and still am not proud of doing, but it was nothing particularly harmful or illegal...just made me look like (and feel like) a nutjob. I guess I wasn't too happy about having someone I barely knew of threaten my wellbeing however she could.

Right, this is supposed to be about the newest installment to my dating history at the time, not her. Our relationship wasn't particularly notable in the beginning, I think the only change was that I actually started liking sex instead of it feeling like a chore. Life came and went around us.

I started experimenting with otc pills not long afterward, remembering the pleasant feeling of floating off when I'd attempted over my freshman summer. I'd also sporadically add in a prescription pain killer my mom had stashed in the same cabinet; at my worst, I'd mixed it with sleeping meds as well as a migraine medicine with caffeine, downing the lot of them with a cup of coffee. This is the first time in my life I'd ever known what "high" felt like. It'd been a short lived experimentation, though, perhaps a month at most.

It had luckily (if you could call it that) coincided with my grandmother raiding the medicine and liquor cabinets in the midst of a mental breakdown, so I'd gotten away with it in the end. Not so lucky, though, I'd been the first to find her covered in bloody scars. I remember her apologizing, trying to explain what had happened, and though I'm sure she doesn't remember, I'd simply responded that I understood with a vague motion at my own scars.

Eventually, things sorted themselves out, at least a bit. I went to my boyfriend's senior prom, watched him graduate, we went on a vacation to the beach with his family, blah blah. If we weren't constantly on the edge of an argument, I might've said I was happy.

My senior year came. I dropped ROTC as I'd been passed over for a position I'd fought tooth and nail for, and the anger burned too much for me to simply gloss over. I did continue in the extra curricular parts of it, but the resentment never really died. I also found out my boyfriend was in fact another of the "10 no's and a whatever means yes" types. The year was mostly unremarkable otherwise; I was refused when I begged my boyfriend to take me to my senior prom, so I missed it. I also lost the most crucial woman I'd ever had in my life, my great grandmother. She'd been more of a mother to me than my actual one ever was. I'd always told her she'd see me graduate, but leukemia cut her life short by just a couple months. Good god did that sting. Managed to get a concussion for my senior day and still walk the stage for my community college degree later on that day. Graduated high school.

I'm sure I sound deadpan about all that. Mostly because I'd assumed I'd have finally offed myself before I ever picked up my diploma. No dice. So I started working my ass off in a fast food kitchen and took classes at the local community college. Somewhere in the midst of that, I'd been invited by friends to come to a youth group.

It was there that I met my future exboyfriend and my future exhusband (spoilers). Seeing as my current boyfriend was constantly shit-talking me to his pals even though he knew I'd see it, I started getting closer to my friends to have some sort of light in my life. My mental health got worse as my relationship collapsed, though, and I tried to overdose again somewhere in there. Which is only remarkable in the fact that I'd swallowed half a bottle of sleeping pills and managed to work a night shift at my job without anyone noticing.

Inevitably, he'd decided my getting close to my future (ex)husband and best friend was actually me cheating on him. Hilarious really, because we'd never even so much as looked at each other that way. I did like him of course, he seemed like much less of an ass than my boyfriend, but he was in a relationship and I didn't want to interfere. Boyfriend becomes ex over text, only to try and patch things up the next day. I told him to go to hell. My friends invite me over for games one day, only for me to find out he'd staged a meeting with a bouquet of roses. I once again told him where to get off, and let the roses rot and die in the backseat of my car. He even tried to say how he'd been making payments on a ring to propose and asked how that'd made me feel. "Angry" I had replied. I think he finally started to get the hint.

I'd ended up in tears at my at the time good friend's house. He talked me through things, and of course it ended up in a confession of feelings for me. Dreading the thought of being alone after being single for a little while, we back and forthed about whether it would be a good move before he left for college, but we inevitably ended up together.

What a fucking ride I was about to go on. He's the first and only person in my life to make me feel like I was inadequate sexually, however this seemed to be much more a problem with his own struggling sense of sexuality than it was a problem with me..didn't stop me from taking it personally, though. I'd even started pondering my sense of gender at this point--I was a tomboy my whole life anyway, it wouldn't have been a huge leap to just be a boy, right?

Either way, he'd left for college and I made long drives every weekend I could to see him. It helped that I'd gotten a new job thanks to the last kind thing my cousin ever did for me, referring me to her fiance's uncle, who became like a surrogate father figure in my worklife. I went down and took my boyfriend on the nicest dates I could think of; lavish dinners, expensive card and collectible store raids, the whole nine yards. Put myself in a hell pit of credit card debt.

Then my friends and I all went down to spend the weekend with him at an anime convention. The weekend would've been absolutely amazing..except. Saturday night happened. Tired and frustrated with trying to get everyone together after a late night rave, a few of us milled about on the sidewalk outside. A random person offers my boyfriend and another friend a tenner if they went across the street and made a jump from a story up the stairs of a under-construction building. They were unable to get past the gates, luckily, but another random guy was able, and managed to break his ankle in the jump.

I helped the guy best I could to get his ankle straight until he could get checked, then went over to playfully hassle my boyfriend over the fact that that could've very well been him. After a minute or two, I watched his expression go blank. He pushed me backwards first, just far enough so that his fist could wind far enough to land a hard punch to my chest. I felt the wind go out of my lungs. I felt a rushing in my ears and tears well in my eyes--then I lost some time. I was apparently hysterical, having something worse than a panic attack (in fact, I learned much later into my mental health journey I'd been triggered into a ptsd flash). Someone drove us back to the dorms, and my then bestfriend came into the room later on and it was then (must've been an hour after the fact by this point) that I was able to squeak out "he hit me" after having lost my voice since it happened. He immediately begins saying if IF it did happen, he'd blacked out, must've been because I was hassling him, whatever he could say to deflect. Right. It's always my fault, somehow.

You'd think I would've walked away from the relationship, but I sadly believed him as much as my friend did. I even ended up planning (and failing due to my car overheating halfway to the spot I'd picked) to propose to him myself, and I did, though it was an odd bojangle's parking lot instead of the beach. Woof. That's hard to relive.

I turned 21 that year. Not long after, my father said I was becoming an alcoholic. I kept liquor under my bed to nurse myself to sleep for some time. Couldn't show my face at a New Year's party I normally would've loved to been at. Turns out that this is what my depression feels like when it's bad.

After sporadic contact off and on, my friend (future exhusband) starts talking to me again. Invites me over to take some extra junk food off his hands. I get there and within a minute he recognizes that something is very wrong with me, and starts talking me into going to see a therapist.

Maybe you'll see a pattern here, but it felt really nice to have somebody see I'm struggling and give a damn about my wellbeing. All the feelings I'd had for him before that had never died off came back and hit me like a deer being plowed by an eighteen wheeler.

It came to a head on Valentine's day. We'd flirted and skirted around the gray areas of being unfaithful for a bit, but when he took me to dinner and kept ordering me drinks (I wanted them, I don't believe this was a ploy BECAUSE) he brought me back to his house and put me to bed to sleep it off, but in my drunken, sad state of being, I begged him in tears to sleep with me. He gave in to my begging, and I became something I never wanted to be--a bonafide cheater.

You could maybe write off one night like that, but once that first time happened, I couldn't stop. I loved him, I wanted him, I wanted what I thought was happiness and forever because I'd waited so long for this. But god, did the guilt fuck my head right up. The worst of my scars on my thighs came from that guilt, and I was so suicidal that I was dubbed a "flight risk" constantly. I started to feel like he was my only anchor to life.

It took a little over two months, but I finally had to come clean to my boyfriend lest I let the guilt eat me alive. I'd struggled with the thoughts of telling him as he was incredibly mentally fragile as well, and I dreaded the thought of being the one to push him over the edge. That's no excuse to lie I realize, but it was where my mind was at the time.

When I had told him everything, he'd suggested overlooking what I'd done, he didn't want to lose me. As sweet a gesture as it sounds, I simply couldn't allow the relationship to continue--I wasn't happy with him, I hadn't been in many months even before my affair, and if I'd ended things the way I should've, it wouldn't have been an affair in the first place. We remained friends for a while afterwards even as my new relationship started rolling.

Somewhere in this, my boyfriend and I spent a night hanging out with my oldest friend from school and her waste of space then-husband. We all got drunk, and before I knew it, I had three people on top of me in a sexual way that I felt gross about. I ended up leaving boyfriend there and driving myself home, wanting to throw up but not from the liquor.

I also got into smoking weed at this point. I fell in love with the stuff; it tempered the constant body pains that I couldn't get a doctor to take seriously and it helped my currently unmedicated brain process emotions a little better. One day I'd gotten high and not felt like driving, but my boyfriend and friend wanted to go to the pool. Friend offered to drive, I agreed, and laid across the back seat of my car for the ride.

We never made it to the pool. My friend pulled out into an intersection and got us t-boned, totaling my car and whipping my spine, which resulted in my one and only ride in an ambulance in my life so far. I stayed the next couple days with my boyfriend at his house, and it wasn't a couple months later that I finally moved out of my parents house to live with him and his family.

Not long after my moving in, my ex had asked me for an online game, which wasn't uncommon, but I was tired from a long day at work and politely declined. Thirty minutes later, I'd been one of a few friends and family to receive what was meant to be a suicide letter. I panicked, calling him almost a hundred times as I ran over to his family's house to bang on their doors and warn them--all of which, the calls and banging, were ignored. I thought finally to try my work phone, which had a completely unique number. He answered on the first ring. I cried in relief begging him to be okay and while he had attempted to run out into the heavy traffic near his college, he was unsuccessful and was being escorted to a psychiatric ward by a policeman. I went back home, sobbing painfully and nearly vomiting from the stress. He called once from the psych ward, and then I never (and I mean to this present day) heard from him again. I tried so hard to talk to him, apologizing over and over, begging for responses for quite some time after.

Oh well. Back to the rest of it. My boyfriend and I were happy-ish for a while, until his anger issues and general aggravation with my precarious mental and emotional state started to make arguments a regular part of our lives. Well, he argued, I shut down. I went to therapy, went through a long laundry list of medications for depression and insomnia. Nothing ever worked too well for too long.

I also lost my relationship with my cousin who'd been my best friend growing up because I refused to go to her wedding without him accompanying me; he was my rock and the only thing standing between social events and anxiety attacks. Sad. Life goes on.

Stress and drama became a usual mainstay in my life. It wasn't much different than my life before, but I was slowly losing my ability to tolerate it. Then, I brought up the idea of trying polyamory. I will preface saying that polyamory probably is wonderful for other people, but it isn't something I should've gotten into, as I was in it for the wrong reasons. I'd gotten the idea from him, he'd done it in his previous relationship. And when I wanted to try it, it was funnily enough with his previous third partner that I'd always had some feelings for, but my god what a trainwreck of drama that girl ended up being.

Then we had a threesome with one of my long term friends. He became a ENM fling for me, but I cut it short as I did not want to mess up our friendship. Then, I got the bright idea to try the same thing with the guy my parents had tried to put under the county jail when I was 15. It was fun at first, then I made friends with his ex/baby mama, and was informed that he had an STI...that he'd not mentioned at all. I was blindsided and full of rage. I struggled at first with whether I should forgive him or not, ultimately I didn't, and stranded him at work one night as I cut contact after I left him there.

Not long after, we traveled to meet my now-fiance's partner. I loved her, she was a wonderful girl, and I helped plan an extravagant weekend for the three of us. Too bad I didn't take him spending the night in her room instead of mine too well. Or him sleeping with me, me begging him to stay with me a bit longer or at least to not go over there to sleep with her immediately after he left me.. that one really didn't go over well.

I couldn't take it. I ended up making them split up, which was such a heart rending feeling of guilt for me that I had a mental breakdown at work and got rode over in an ambulance (oh, guess it was twice in my life) to the hospital. My dad had to come pick me up, and I lost my job over what I'd done to myself at work.

We got married a couple months later. I remember having a conversation with my dad and lying about how I was feeling as we waited for him to go back to the house and get his license (which you need for the paperwork part of marriage to his surprise).

October came and he took my car out one night without asking. Half asleep from a powerful dose of ambien, I answer a panicked phone call. He'd wrecked my car. I had to go pick him up, and was made out to be a horrible person for being too tired to have a proper reaction.

Except I absolutely was positively pissed beyond belief. This was my second (also my favorite) vehicle to be totaled by someone else. I resented him so much. January rolled around and in the midst of a volatile argument, he'd said he hated me a little right then. I was truly never able to let that comment go.

We fought our way through to April, having made friends with yet another trash-incarnate human being in the meantime, but it didn't matter right then. One day I sat by the river with a bottle of pills I was sure would do it this time, and a photo of the two of us together. I didn't do it, then got to make me feel like I wished I had. The next day I took myself to the emergency room and, because of my prior history, my voluntary admittance was quickly flipped into an involuntary stay.

I never felt worse than I did while I was held in the emergency room, no contact, nothing to do but be alone with my thoughts. I cried, screamed quietly, couldn't sleep despite being loaded with valium.

I was transferred to a nice hospital psych ward in the mountains. I spent my week there making friends with people of all kinds, doing group therapy, and enjoying what felt like a safe little fishbowl compared to the terrifying ocean that was reality outside.

They figured out part of the problem was an antidepressant I'd been against taking in the first place, go figure. I was finally put on a medication that worked consistently, and sent on my way.

I spent the next month after my discharge absolutely drunk off my ass. The whole month. I ended up screwing around with the garbage friend despite not having permission to do so, and nearly lost my marriage when I admitted that it happened a week later. My husband and I spent my first week at a new job fighting over text, but we were eventually able to reconcile (kinda. Things wouldn't be the same afterward but that's expected).

Maybe a month later, I met who is decidedly the love of my life, but we started off as just friends (and coworkers, too). He quickly became my best friend since we spent so much time together. I was good friends with his ex (then girlfriend) too, and the four of us hung out outside of work almost daily.

We managed to get through my birthday and halloween happily. Then, without warning, his girlfriend becomes his ex and he's being kicked out of his living situation. I honestly took offense with how awfully my best friend had been treated, and decided to show her how clearly I was on his side the only way I knew how.

I picked him up and brought him back to my house from his family's, and we spent the weekend talking through things until the sadness turned into laughter, and I had very fast and hard fallen deep in love with my best friend.

I was an asshole for asking my husband to allow me to have a relationship with him, but he did agree to it as he was afraid of me doing it behind his back if he said no. But, any yes was good enough for me at that point.

It worked for a while, he even moved in with us for a month or so. As expected, though, things blew up, and instead of trying to salvage my broken marriage, I ran away with my boyfriend because I felt something with him I'd never felt before now--peace.

And even though we spent a month effectively homeless on a friends couch, even though we've been through so many things already together, he has consistently been my peace. He has loved me through some of the toughest decisions of my life and has helped me try to rebuild my mental health with a type of patience and gentleness I never thought possible of another human being.

"This sounds like more of an autobiography than it does reasoning."

I'm sure it does, but I've at least halfway answered your question in telling you all this.

[cremationburial]

Guiding Compassion: The Crucial Role Of Funeral Directors In Sydney

In the vibrant, multicultural landscape of Sydney, funeral directors play a pivotal role in helping families navigate the complexities of saying goodbye to a loved one. Their responsibilities extend far beyond the logistics of arranging funerals; they act as compassionate guides, cultural liaisons, and emotional supports during one of life’s most challenging times. This article delves into the multifaceted role of funeral directors in Sydney, highlighting their essential contributions and the unique challenges they face.

Personalised Funeral Planning

Sydney’s diverse population means funeral directors must be adept at catering to a wide range of cultural and religious practices. They work closely with families to create personalised services that honour the deceased’s heritage and personal preferences. This might involve coordinating traditional rites for an Asian family, arranging a secular celebration of life, or integrating specific rituals for an Indigenous Australian funeral. By ensuring that each service reflects the deceased’s identity and the family’s wishes, funeral directors provide a sense of comfort and respect.

Legal and Administrative Assistance

One of the critical roles of a funeral director is managing the myriad legal and administrative tasks that accompany a death. This includes obtaining death certificates, securing permits for burial or cremation, and coordinating with cemeteries or crematoriums. Funeral directors in Sydney must be well-versed in local regulations and ensure all legal requirements are met. This expertise relieves families of bureaucratic burdens, allowing them to focus on their grieving process.

Logistical Coordination

From transporting the body to arranging flowers and music, funeral directors handle all logistical aspects of a funeral. In a city like Sydney, where traffic and geographic spread can pose challenges, efficient logistical coordination is crucial. Funeral directors ensure timely and respectful transportation of the deceased, whether it’s within the city or to a remote location for burial. They also liaise with venues, service providers, and caterers to orchestrate seamless and dignified ceremonies.

Emotional and Psychological Support

Beyond their administrative and logistical duties, funeral directors provide invaluable emotional support to grieving families. They often serve as counsellors, offering a listening ear and comforting presence. Understanding the stages of grief and the emotional toll of loss, they guide families through difficult decisions with sensitivity and empathy. Many funeral directors in Sydney also provide resources for grief counselling and support groups, helping families find long-term emotional support.

Cultural Sensitivity and Inclusivity

Sydney’s cultural diversity requires funeral directors to be culturally sensitive and inclusive. They must understand and respect various customs, traditions, and beliefs, ensuring that funerals are conducted appropriately. This might involve special preparations for religious rituals, understanding dietary restrictions for funeral receptions, or creating spaces for traditional mourning practices. By fostering an inclusive environment, funeral directors help families feel respected and supported in their cultural expressions of grief.

Funeral directors in Sydney play a multifaceted and indispensable role in supporting families through their most difficult times. Their expertise in planning, legalities, logistics, and emotional support, coupled with cultural sensitivity and modern technological integration, ensures that every funeral is conducted with dignity and respect. By guiding families through the complexities of loss with compassion and professionalism, funeral directors provide a crucial service that honours both the deceased and the living.