No, I’m not dying young.
I hope you don’t die young too.
That you live long enough to make enough mistakes.
Not to be overly theatrical.
But don’t you occasionally wonder who will attend your funeral?
Do you not think about life after death?
For the ordinary African, and especially my mother, this is the most invasive thought. But I’m truly fascinated about it. I pray to God that my parents are not among my mourners, because I died at a ripe old age (99?, I like the number) after a fulfilling life.
I encourage you to think about it.
I assume that a well-lived life would attract a large number of visitors.
However, this is not the most important consideration.
It would be the ones you actually cared for.
Were there such people?
Did you know them when you were living not just as family members but really as who they were?
Were you curious about them?
Did you know what their favorite foods were?
Their peculiar quirks?
Did they keep many areas of their lives hidden from you because they feared judgment or facing your wrath?
How long would they mourn you?
A day? Two days? Ten? One year?
Do you want them to be so sad?
I mean, you are gone after all.
Would you prefer a spectacular or a peaceful funeral?
If you were a guest, even if you were only attending and not participating in the “festivities”, would you want something flashy or quiet?
I hope the morbidity of this little piece inspires you to live a life with few regrets.
Do your best every day to reduce any regrets you may have during your funeral.
There are no second chances that we know of. Yet.
