With my nephew’s funeral, I’ve been thinking about other funerals and memorials that I’ve attended. Sometimes, people say, “Don’t be sad. He (or she) wouldn’t want people to be sad.” That’s a sweet sentiment, and there’s probably a lot of truth in it.
But when it’s my turn to hit the pit, I want people howling like lost dogs and wailing, “The light has gone out of the world!” I want tears to pour like the Chutes de Khone. I want hysterics. I want rending of garments. I want people to dive into the grave, screaming, “If David’s not alive, I don’t want to live, either!”
That’d make this corpse feel better.