If I Died…
I often fantasize that when I die, my spirit will stay here long enough and be omniscient enough to know how people react and feel. I’d like to see my own funeral like Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn.
First one and then another pair of eyes followed the minister’s, and then almost with one impulse the congregation rose and stared while the three dead boys came marching up the aisle, Tom in the lead, Joe next, and Huck, a ruin of drooping rags, sneaking sheepishly in the rear! They had been hid in the unused gallery listening to their own funeral sermon!
– The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Mark Twain
Don’t worry. This isn’t a cry for help.
But I wonder about particular people. Would he be sorry? Would he miss me? What would he think? (It’s him I think about and wonder about the most. It’s a sickness.)
Would she come all these miles for my funeral? Would she be able to go on?
What would my funeral be like? I know where I want it to be and who I want to do it. I know what I want done with my body. Would those things happen?
What would people say at my funeral? Who would stand up and tell stories about me? How many people would be there? (Who would run sound? 😀 )
How long would people remember me?
Who would remember me?
Why would they remember me?