Dylan's Funeral/Cremation

“There is a July 1999 article in a magazine called “The Director” which is a publication for professionals in the mortuary biz. which Sue’s friend talks about having worked with Dylan’s mother for a couple of years prior to helping her arrange her son Dylan’s cremation.  Sue has said herself that Dylan has no memorial site to visit. His friends have said that he was cremated. Now there’s even more undeniable proof that he was cremated.  “On April 20, 1999, I watched the television in disbelief as the tragic events unfolded at Columbine High School. My disbelief turned into sadness as I learned that John Tomlin, a boy from my church, Foothills Bible Church, died in the library that day. The next morning, my disbelief and sadness turned to horror as I saw the name “Dylan Klebold” flash across my television screen.  I worked for several years with Sue Klebold at Arapahoe Community College. Until recently, Sue was on the Mortuary Science Program Advisory Committee and made certain that the program functioned under the guidelines of the Americans with Disabilities Act. My heart broke for Sue because I knew she was a good person and a good mother, and that her life would never again be the same.  Sue contacted me to ask for my help in arranging the cremation and private memorial service for her son. I called John Horan of Horan & McConaty Funeral Service, Denver, Colorado, and together we made funeral arrangements for Dylan Klebold. It was very important to me that I immediately tell Sue that I was there to love her and comfort her, and that I was not sitting in judgment of her. As Sue and her family talked and told stories of their son and brother, I was given the opportunity to hear of the caring, loving side of Dylan that most people will never hear about.“  —  On Thursday, April 22, Tom Klebold called and asked for help. Would I do a funeral for his son? It was to be a private, secret affair, with a few trusted friends. The media circus had begun, and Tom, on the best of days, is a private person.  Upon arrival at the funeral home I met Tom Klebold and his other son Byron. We were formal with each other, but he was grateful for my presence. In a room where Dylan’s body was in a coffin, I met his mother, Sue. She came into my arms and sobbed and shook. I held her, but could feel nothing, as I was numb with overload. Dylan lay in the casket surrounded with Beanie Babies.  A family lawyer came. Long-time friends arrived; one couple was from my church. Tom’s sister and brother-in-law were the only other family members. As I walked into the incredibly tension-filled room, I knew that the service I had prepared was not appropriate. I said, “Let’s just sit and talk for a while. Who wants to begin?”  One family jumped in and talked about how much they loved Dylan. Another said what great parents the Klebolds were. The family from my church related how great it was to have Dylan at their house and how he wrestled with their son. Nothing made sense. Then Dylan’s father Tom said, “Who the hell gave a gun to my son? All we have in the house is a BB gun to shoot the woodpeckers. We are against guns.” Susan said, “How could he be anti-Semitic? He is half Jewish as I am all Jewish.” So it went for a half an hour or more. Finally it was time to do liturgy, read scripture, offer prayers and give a brief sermon about parents’ love, which is as faithful as God’s love.  On the way out I asked the lawyer how should I respond to the media. He said, “Tell them what you saw here today. Tell them about these good people.”  Pastor Donald Marxhausen  Chaplain, Adams County Jail, Colorado 

I need you to tell me that right now.

Im a slut for validation!! Tell me you’re proud!!! Tell me I did good!!!!

Wow! that sentence is so me.

No really because what did I do to deserve a brain this fucked up

I wish we could all be happy.

The person I reblogged this from deserves to be happy.

i feel so dumb and embarrassed after expressing any emotion

totally true, damn cullen

friend: have you heard of the book Columbine by Dave Cullen? I might start reading it soon.

me: you know you could literally get more accurate information from a 15 year old on Tumblr

That day I can die in peace.

All I want for Christmas is new Eric content

my tumblr was poofed away by fucking tumblr the same day i reached 200 followers. please give me a follow and reblog this post so people know.

After 22 years photos or information continue to appear, I am little to believe that it is possible that in the future they will remove the tapes from the basement. That would be great!

New from bill Ockham

I had always wanted to have a diary, until a few days ago a girl gave me one and I am happy about it, I will be able to write all my thoughts, what I love and hate, it will be great!

Speechless with these beautiful words. I really wish this had never happened and that Dylan and Eric had moved on with their lives, I'm sorry for all the bad that happened but I'm also sorry that a lot of people were hurt by their actions.

Dear Eric and Dylan, Hi. It's the future talking. I don't know if I'm the person to say this, but I'm going to take a bet and say that I am. Well, you guys succeeded. You did what you wanted and more - maybe not that day, maybe the bombs didn't go off, but what you did reverberated. It shocked the country. And I bet you're proud of that now. You would love to see it. There are a couple thousand girls online who think they're in love with you and a couple thousand lonely boys who idolize you. Two loners from Colorado, who changed the world. But it's late 1998, and none of that has happened yet. I'm talking to you. Sorry, but you can't do it. I know that may come as a shock, and it's gonna be hard to let go. Trust me, I get it. This is what you lived for and this is what you'd end up dying for, in the library, together. But you have to let go of the plan, because there is something else out there. There is community college, Eric, and a future for you. Dylan, there is the University of Arizona. There's Sparky, and your koala, and another shift at Blackjacks, another day shooting at Rampart Range. Another Dr.Pepper and another camping trip. You'll wake up the morning of 4/21 and your parents will yell at you to get out of bed, go to school and you will. There will be no bullets in the walls and no bombs in the hallways, and that's okay. Breathe. Let it go. Yeah, you dreamed of news reports and shoot outs, of the library floor collapsing and the sound of shotgun blasts in the classrooms. You wanted to scare them to death, and I'll be honest - it would have felt good. Better than staring at the ceiling, lost, spinning in a circle because what's next? You hadn't planned on turning 18, Dylan. Now you are. Your mom baked a cake and it feels surreal. You thought about what your birthday would have been like had you died, and maybe, just maybe you reveled in the suffering. It's going to take a while to change. Go outside and turn that striker bracelet over in your hands, stare at the stars. You woke up on 4/21 and so did 13 others. It's raw. There is a school shooting somewhere else and it feels like a punch to the gut. It's like you are watching yourself on TV, your face plastered up there to be gawked at and wondered about, but no one knows it's you too. You're still nobodies. That's okay. Maybe you didn't have to get up om stage and fire off a gun for the world to pay attention, maybe you just had to get online and say, "I'm Eric, I'm Dylan, I wanted to shoot up my school, let me be honest." Okay, thank you. You didn't have to tell us your names. There is not going to be an NBK, no bombs, no guns, no videotapes on YouTube. You'll go on to live your lives and on 4/20 every year you'll call each other and say, "Hey, Dylan. Just calling." You're thirty years old. It's faded, distant. You have a son and a wife and they don't know, because it's between you and VoDkA, you and Reb. "Hey Eric. It's 4/20, just calling. How are you?" "Alive." You laugh a little. It's okay now, Columbine is long gone, a forgotten school with forgotten students who graduated and moved on. Brooks, Patrick, Rachel, Isaiah, Daniel, they're all gone. It's a strange world where NBK didn't happen, those bullets were never spent. But you have to go now. The phone is ringing, and you can't live for what didn't happen for so long. "Bye Dylan, bye Eric." You say, and you hang up. The stars are beautiful outside, and you realise that it's better in the light. Love, the TCC.

/Originally written and posted by kingcountythotpatrol a couple years ago before the Great TCC Tumblr Purge and gained hundreds of notes, so a few oldies might recognise it. I thought it was lost forever until I found a screenshot on my old tablet. Enjoy, I guess./

And sometimes I feel like I shouldn't be here, that my damn existence is a punishment. I want to die, but I also want to live.

This body will burn in hell 🔥

Some writings from Eric.

Guns! Boy, i loved playing "guns" as a kid. It is one of the few things I miss from childhood today. Living a rural town in Michigan for three years, I played a lot in a forest. My brother, two friends and I would always be running around shooting imaginary bad-guys. The woods behind my house were vast, empty, and old. It smellet of a musty tree or maybe of pine trees most of the timein there. Those woods left so many memories in the mind it´s amazing. Such as how scary they looked during hard rain storms or how dark they were at night. I was even afraid to go into the woods during nighttime, for fear of the unknown. For the most part, however, my momories are fond ones. My brother, Sonia, and I had countless missions in those woods, hunting for enemy troops and stopping invasions. We would set up little tree fort made of loose sticks and branches, and use them for our bases and camps. "Fire"! I would scream, as we all made as many fast gun sounds as we could, waving our deadly plastic toys around. Almost every time we had a fire fight, we would pretend one of us wouls be injured. We always would carry little bandages and tape with us to dress the wound. Luckily, the bullet would always go right through so we wouldn't need to perform surgery. Sonia, being her  crazy self, would run right into the battle screaming and firing at all the bad guys, as we gave cover fire. It seemed to vivid, our fighting, and so real. Now that I have actually fired weapons I realize how unrealistic we were, but hey, we were just kids! "Where's the air support?!" my brother screams, as I reload my M16. "Hell if I know!!" I retort. "We got more incoming APC's on our 6´s, set those mines quick!" Sonia hollers. The bad guys were surrounding us, but we had plenty of ammo to last us for hours. I toss a few stick grenades into the trees ahead, and duck as they go off killing the wave of enemy troops. Kevin was setting the mines for those trucks ans Sonia was launching rockets at the platoon on our left. "Grenade!" I scream as I see a stick fall in our base. Sonia and I jump out over the tree trunks as the grenade destroys our base. "We gotta move, now!" Sonia yells in my ear under all the shooting. We run right past my brother and he joins up in the evacuation. Just then our air support flies by overhead. "There's the gun-ships!" says my bro, as we dodge tree limbs, bullets, and mortars. We stop at a group of rather large trees and turn and return fire. The air support is dropping napalm on the advancing troops, and launching rockets at the trucks. We pull out a huge machine gun and set it up on a startionary position in a tree. Sonia and Kevin start spraying bullets everywhere as I use hand-to- hand combat on a few bad guys that made it to us. By the time I finish them off with a really strong stick, it's time to go inside and do some homework, and Sonia needs to go out to dinner with her family tonight, too. All in a day's work as a kid, I guess. One of these days, real soon, I will call up Sonia and see if she still remembers me. Ans see if those woods, our forts, and our hide-outs are still there where I left them over seven years ago.

Good time to call me Sonya :)

I loved it! Damn tiktok ...

So TikTok removed my edit of Dylan 2 times in a row ... so I leave it here.. hope you guys like it 🖤