Funeral

 

Watching from the sidelines was something I never had any patients for. I’d rather be in the middle taking action or leading with an unmatchable passion. Ah, that’s me! Well, it was me. I’ve not had much time or chance to test out this new form, however, getting through this ‘final life stage’ is proving tougher then I thought.

I’ve been well aware of everything that has gone on from that key moment. Getting use to not being able to communicate normally was a bitch, but I found some ways around it. Going through solid objects and living beings, turned out not to be dramatic or horrifying. The odd emotionless, lack of other senses, invisible, gravity deifying sort-of-body I now have has its pros and cons.

To be honest I didn’t know what to expect from my own funeral. I had a Will- thanks to my company-but I couldn’t recall anything about arrangements, music or the service. I don’t think I’d ever really thought about it, however as I now stand at the back of a Church, I wish I had. The rumors I had picked up on seemed like a joke or a fall back. I wasn’t religious, I was for Darwin and Science hundred percent.

I float and listen as people talk about me. However, the stories can’t compare to the ones at my wedding. They are mostly un-funny, reflective and don’t sum up my life as they should. At least they make me feel loved and appreciated. Better yet, no hymens or religious songs are played. I go out to The eye of the Tiger and that feels fitting enough.

Avoiding the crying people, I hitch a ride in a friend’s car after the service. I can’t help but wonder if I should be traveling with my body, but it just seems so morbid to me. To think that everything I was is now in a chestnut box decorated with flowers is upsetting enough. It takes forever to arrive at the cemetery going at a snail’s pace. It starts raining as we go through the gates and I disperses from the car before its stopped.

Oddly, I know where they’ll bury me. Heading there, I shelter under a small willow tree and look at the hole dug in front of my father’s grave. The last time I stood there was six years ago when he was being put in the ground. A parade of umbrellas catches my attention and I see them bring the coffin here. Standing my ground, I watch as it is lowered into the hole, people talk, soil is throw and then everyone melts away.