A Eulogy given by a preacher having an existential crisis, who didn’t really know the individual, and who believes the person was a watchmaker who really enjoyed puns, when in reality they were neither of the two.
Nicholas Smurthwaite
I believe that I am speaking for the congregation when I say that our dearly deceased was no cog in the machine. Much like their handiwork, I have never known them to be late to anything. We may think they have left us too soon, but the reality is that for them, the timing was perfect. For who are we to suppose the boundaries of time? And who are we to beg for the seconds, clawing for moments we feel have been wasted? For what is it to waste something that does not exist? Yet we beg for more of it as if it were scraps off a table, which an unknown master gently bequeaths them to us with a false hope of prolonging our own starvation? We starve and yet still beg and honor those who have died of starvation with mourning, when in reality we should rejoice in knowing that they no longer must prostrate themselves for these few ample moments that correlate to one assured end. Even a broken clock is right twice a day
Nicholas Smurthwaite is an English major and a real human being who was born yesterday at the ripe age of 21. He loves his mother very much, and misses his dog, Daisy.