The Funeral of John Fitzgerald Kennedy
-Historical Narrative Pg. 3
-Dedication Pg. 4
-About the Author Pg. 5
The Mourning of America
Silence. All I could hear was the soft howl of the wind and the dull sound of light rain hit the casket as it was dragged across the ground. God bless him. Few people here and there were crying loudly. God bless this country. The drummer started to pound on his drums in soft rhythm. The band of people holding the casket crossed through the large courtyard of headstones. Lead by Ms. Kennedy in all dark, from where I was all I could see clearly were the two children at her side. Poor kids, they’ll never know their parents. The closer they came the louder the crying. It felt like hours, days, months even. I can’t say that I was completely dry-eyed either. The people crying came from all over the country to see this. To see something that will change history. Drum, drum, drum. The soft rumble was pounding against my head. They were getting closer and closer. The casket was marched through the rest of the courtyard and over to the dug-out plot. They began to lower it slowly. I rubbed the damp spots under my eyes. Some people started to groan loudly. “Why did he have to die?” Exclaimed a person in the crowd. It started to be almost too loud to hear the drums, the groans started to die down. The realisation that it wouldn’t change anything? Maybe because they were angered and enraged more than sad? What is life but a beginning and end, what changes in the middle is how long you prolong your inevitable death?
The men put the box in the ground and started to cover it with dirt. The subtle thump when the dirt hit the casket was unsettling. Dirt was poured evenly throughout the plot covering everything. When it was filled a few people straightened up and began walking away hunched over cold. Some stayed to stare in despair, a look of frustration in others. I awoke from my spiral of inner thoughts and emotions and I walked slowly to my motorcycle. To the sounds of the priest praying in unison with the people.
Afterword On November 25, 1963, JFK was buried at Arlington National Cemetery. Roughly 300,000 people were at the burial, and of those 300,000 my grandpa sat near the front. My paternal Grandpa was working in the U.S. Army as an engineer a back up force, so to speak. If anyone needed help anywhere in the world he’d be there in less than 24 hours. And when he heard that President Kennedy died he felt that President Kennedy’s funeral deserved his attention if only for a few hours. The casket was lead by Jacqueline Kennedy the widow of John F. Kennedy.
Bibliography "John F. Kennedy Assassinated." History.com. A&E Television Networks, n.d. Web. 05 Nov. 2015. <http://www.history.com/this-day-in-history/john-f-kennedy-assassinated>. "Log in." Britannica School. N.p., n.d. Web. 05 Nov. 2015. <http://school.eb.co.uk/levels/ intermediate/article/275246>. N.p., n.d. Web. &lt;http://dcist.com/2013/11/photos_the_funeral_of_president_joh.php#photo-1&gt;.
"Photos: John F. Kennedy's Funeral - CNN.com." <i>CNN</i>. Cable News Network, n.d. Web. 16 Nov. 2015. &lt;http://edition.cnn.com/2012/11/22/us/gallery/jfk-funeral/index.html&gt;.
<i>Wikipedia</i>. Wikimedia Foundation, n.d. Web. 16 Nov. 2015. &lt;https://en.wikipedia.org/ wiki/John_F._Kennedy_Eternal_Flame&gt;.
I dedicate this to my loving grandpa. Who raised one of the most important people in my life.
Joshua MacKinnon, the author of the book. Had a stuttering problem since he was 10. And because of that he spent more time enjoying writing and reading then speaking. Joshua has wanted to be a scientist his whole life. Though never thought it worth the extra years of school. Joshua’s biggest fear is heights and doesn’t like anything above 5 feet. Joshua has spent most of his time indoors. And doesn’t regret a thing.