Can someone correct my short story for grammar and punctuation? Also, tell me what you liked and what you did?

What emotions do you feel?


I opened the door to my dad’s SUV and stepped out. We arrived at the Cornerstone Church in San Francisco. My head throbbed with agony from crying profusely. I wore a suit, black as death, and polished shoes to accompany my ensemble.





My father held out a welcoming hand, intimating me to grab it: “Come on.”





We advanced across the parking lot toward the entrance of the church. The gigantic door of the entryway towered over my dad and me. He pushed it open. Melancholy filled the air inside the church. The room, dim with light, looked like the ocean floor on a moonlit night. I gazed forward at a sign that read, “Norma Sanchez: 1971-2005”. Rivulets of tears streamed down my face. Norma Sanchez: my mom. Norma Sanchez made me laugh, cry, or smile. Losing my mom felt like I lost a piece of my heart. I observed the people who sat in the rows of pews. Sadness was depicted on the canvases of their faces in the form of tears-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes. We found our seats and sat down. I surveyed the crowd of people once more. I felt as if everyone pantomimed their emotions with nose-blows and sobbing hugs. A sea of wails echoed throughout the church and off its cold, hard granite walls.





The priest cleared his throat and spoke these words, “Friends and family of Norma Sanchez we gather here today to express our farewells to a beloved daughter, sister, friend, wife, and mother.” Tears gushed out from my dad’s tear ducts and cascaded down his cheeks once he heard what the priest announced.





As he continued to talk about my mother’s life, something did not feel right. I felt like I was in a sorrowful nightmare that I could not wake up from, as if a cloud, gloomy and filled with dejection, hovered over me and would not leave. I would never see my loving mother ever again. Her comforting hug, calming voice, and sweet smell evanesced. We walked to the front of the church to see her once more, after the funeral ended. I trembled at the sight of my mother, still and lifeless, resting in her eternal, cherry wood, home. She would never have the chance to see me finish elementary school, attend my high school graduation, or even hold her grandchildren in her arms. We headed toward the parking lot. My dad cradled me in his arms. I felt stranded in a sea of depression alongside my father. My dad started the engine to SUV and we drove away. A few minutes later, I regarded the clouds and noticed that they also wept tears of sorrow.

Can someone correct my short story for grammar and punctuation? Also, tell me what you liked and what you did?
I opened the door to my dad’s SUV and stepped out. We arrived at the Cornerstone Church in San Francisco. My head throbbed with agony from crying profusely. I wore a suit, black as death, and polished shoes to accompany my ensemble.





My father held out a welcoming hand, intimating me to grab it, “Come on.”





We advanced across the parking lot toward the entrance of the church. The gigantic door of the entryway towered over my dad and me. He pushed it open. Melancholy filled the air inside the church. The room, dim with light, looked like the ocean floor on a moonlit night. I gazed forward at a sign that read, “Norma Sanchez: 1971-2005”. Rivulets of tears streamed down my face. Norma Sanchez, my mom, made me laugh, cry, or smile. Losing my mom felt as if I lost a piece of my heart. I observed the people who sat in the rows of pews. Sadness was depicted on the canvases of their faces in the form of tears-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes. We found our seats and sat down. I surveyed the crowd of people once more. I felt as if everyone pantomimed their emotions with nose-blows and sobbing hugs. A sea of wails echoed throughout the church and off its cold, hard granite walls.





The priest cleared his throat and spoke these words, “Friends and family of Norma Sanchez we gather here today to express our farewells to a beloved daughter, sister, friend, wife, and mother.” Tears gushed out from my dad’s tear ducts and cascaded down his cheeks once he heard what the priest announced.





As he continued to talk about my mother’s life, something did not feel right. I felt like I was in a sorrowful nightmare that I could not wake up from, as if a cloud, gloomy and filled with dejection, hovered over me and would not leave. I would never see my loving mother ever again. Her comforting hug, calming voice, and sweet smell evanesced. We walked to the front of the church to see her once more, after the funeral ended. I trembled at the sight of my mother, still and lifeless, resting in her eternal, cherry wood, home. She would never have the chance to see me finish elementary school, attend my high school graduation, or even hold her grandchildren in her arms. We headed toward the parking lot. My dad cradled me in his arms. I felt stranded in a sea of depression alongside my father. My dad started the engine to SUV and we drove away. A few minutes later, I regarded the clouds and noticed that they also wept tears of sorrow.





I changed a few things, like when you said, "Losing my mom felt like I lost a piece of my heart."





I changed it to:: Losing my mom felt as if I lost a piece of my heart.





And when you said "Norma Sanchez:my mom." In the next sentence I changed it to "Norma Sanchez, my mom, made me laugh...."





It made me feel sad and made me think, just about random things in my life! Just to like absorb what I'm doing, like with family and friends. I felt like my heart dropped to my stomach. Very descriptive words





A+ 100% BRAVO * =]



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