You know, I don’t believe in God or heaven or hell. Maybe in that one sentence, if they existed, I condemned myself. The rational part of me thinks we just cease to exist. Sure, people remember us but there is no part of our consciousness or spirit that lingers, I think.
At the same time, I wish I could see what happens right after I die. I wish I could hear what people said, their true feelings, if they had any regrets. For the last thing, at least, I think they should have done something before they had time to regret. Life is too short for regrets. We never know what’s going to happen tomorrow.
It’s weird, but I wish I could be at my funeral. I wish I could hear the stories or memories that people share, in case I have forgotten them. Or, if I remembered them, how did that time feel to them. I want to soak up everyone’s sorrows and memories and take them with me, if I was there.
If I could attend my funeral, I wonder if I would see my dead body and call it fat. I’d wonder who put makeup on me, when I never slept with it on. I’d wonder if my family would actually feel like they’ll never get over it. Id wish I could tell them it’s okay, that things will get better, that life will go on. I’d tell everyone who would be blaming themselves that it’s not their fault. I’d tell them I’m still listening. I’d say that I loved them until the very end. I’d laugh with my coworkers and apologize about the work I’ve left them.
If I could attend my funeral, I’d tell them that there was no need to come. That a funeral is for show, and in reality I was put to rest before I was placed in a casket.
If I could attend my funeral, I’d probably want to un-kill myself. I’d probably be sorry for what I did and for all the pain I was seeing. I’d want to take it back. But it would be too late for that.
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