My Funeral

wrecksWednesday, I went to the funeral, of a friend, who died suddenly, from a heart attack. He was 45. The chapel was small, and filled with friends. Every seat was taken, and some were standing in the back and up the side aisles.

I wondered, if I died, who would be at my funeral?  Numerous images came to mind. First – No one. Then, maybe a few friends from the Amelia Room, a social club that I have belonged to, through the years. They would be gathered at a spot by the beach, spreading my ashes in the wind. Surely, some of my surf buddies would be in attendance. And maybe some brothers and sisters, from my church, would say a few prayers. “I don’t know”.  I just don’t know, how all of that would happen. First you die, and then the word spreads. Hopefully, they don’t plan my service, where I have to compete with a football game, or an epic swell. But, really, it wouldn’t matter, because I would be dead.

The point of this is, I’m not dead, and what am I going to do about it. What am I going to do, with my life. Do I have relationships that need mending? Is there any resentment in my heart? These are the things that the pastor asked us, to ask ourselves?

“If you died today, what are you going to leave behind?”

If my death occurred, at this moment, BAMM, I’m no longer here; I would leave behind a once, big ole’ Cadillac. A nineteen 73, turquoise with red interior, big. fat, Cadillac, with leather interior. It’s a four door, from back when they knew how to make doors, HEAVY. It has a sweet AM/FM stereo.

And then in an instance, my Cadillac is a heap of metal. Some call it salvage. ~  “I don’t know” ~  I question it’s salvageability.  It was hit by a big, log truck. The caddie pulled onto the highway, directly into the path of a barreling, loaded down, old rig. It was a tire screeching, noise making, screaming, crying wreck. It was a heart wrenching, gut spewing, no-way-out collision.

Now the Cadillac rests in a rusted heap, unbudging and ugly to look at. It will never be the same.

The car is my family, once, big, plush and roomy.

The big, rig logging truck is money, greed and power.

It was an instantaneous-lifetime explosion, of sibling rivalry, resentment, jealousy and fear.

Sometimes that happens. A tragedy can leave one without a family.

Until I do die, I rest in knowing that………

My Body Man is Excellent. One day, I hope to chauffeur my family around in heaven.

We’ll be where money doesn’t matter.

We’ll have the best address~

High Up In, Heaven

P.S. We won’t need the stereo, because we’ll be singing Kumbaya!

7 thoughts on “My Funeral”

  1. I am still shocked at the sudden death even tho I have in my car an old cassette of Ram ddaza on death and our spirit life…i k.ow of two who would be there barb s

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