My Funeral

“Fairness does not govern life and death. If it did, no good person would ever die young.”
-Mitch Albom
The Five People You Meet in Heaven

I don’t know what it is with death that it came across my life and thinking in the past few weeks. I am not skeptical though, I know it is not yet my time (as if I would know if that time comes). Reading Paulo Cuelo’s The Alchemist, the death of my grandmother and now, reading Mitch Albom’s Five People You Meet in Heaven. This is not a blog on death, that’s for sure, it is just that it is what crosses my thoughts and experiences these days.

Now, this got me thinking—what if I would die?

(I’m feeling blank now.)

One thing would be for sure, a lot of people would be there in my funeral. Many of them would shed tears like they have never shed so much in their entire lives for me. Some would say, it is very unfortunate and some would just make themselves comfortable with the thought that I deserve to rest wherever I am.

I know that in my lifetime, I have made so much friends and I, effortlessly, in one way or another, have made a great mark in their lives—as the brain person, the laughter caster, the great philosopher, the underpaid writer, the hopeless romantic, the happy-go-lucky-nothing-would-ever-turn-out-wrong friend or the consoler. All of which makes me smile every time I come to think of it.

I could imagine, may people, all of them my acquaintances in different ways, would gather in my place (I know my wake will just be at home). They would share stories about me in my wake, they would tell each other how they appreciate me with tears on the verge of falling. Then they would begin to know each other, they will make a connection, they will become friends, they will find a brother, sister, confidante, partner, mother, father, and friend among each other—that is because even in my death I will bring people close together.

Outside, some would be playing game cards while others drink the night away. They would then tell their own stories to each other, think together, and then laugh together. Then at some point, they would forget that I am the one lying inside the coffin, then eventually, they would remember, then they would start to be sad again.

The day of my burial would be the most heartbreaking one—for me and for those that I would leave behind. One or two of my closest friend, would be singing songs for me, they would try to spill out the lyrics in between sobs. The church will be full of people, crying, staring blankly and reminiscing the times that I am still with them. Some would miss me because of the good things we have shared and some would regret with the things that they haven’t said or done. I hope none of them would come to hate me in my passing.
The day of my burial would end in silence, everyone, retiring in their own comfort zones, with half a heart. Looking forward to the next day. Some would cry themselves to sleep and some would be sleepless at all.

Flowers, candles, laughs, friends, family, tears, coffee, stories, memories and me—this would be my funeral. These things would randomly happen or come, but I am certain, it will.

But then and again, before I end this thought-sharing I want to say, that I still want to live long, fulfill my dreams and become a better person—far better than who I am today.

I am not afraid to die, just not now. Conceited, it seems, I don’t know what the world of my beloveds would be like if I were to die, I know they will mourn for long but I am open to the fact that they would eventually forget me, too. I don’t want to be forgotten, I don’t want to be just a vague memory, I don’t want to die. Atleast, not yet.