Thursday, November 17, 2011
Isn't This My Funeral
A couple years ago: ME- Who are you talking to, Mom? MOM- These people are preparing for the funeral, and I'm telling them what to do. ME- Who's funeral? MOM- Well, this is my funeral isn't it? Aren't I here in the casket? I want one of my pink dresses to match the casket, but I don't have any shoes to match. ME- You won't be needing shoes; your feet won't be showing. MOM- Yes they will! And I don't want my hands to show. ME- Ok, Mom. MOM- I want you to sing like you did at Dad's funeral. ME- I can't promise that, it might be too emotional for me. MOM- Well then for sure, the girls. ME- I can't promise that either, but perhaps we can prerecord something and play it there. MOM- Well, I guess, but I'd rather you do it in person. ME- But this is not your funeral. You're right here in your house, in your room, in your bed, and I'm right here with you. MOM- Well, I'm ready to go; you know I have outlived my body. I never thought I would live this long. ME- Maybe it's cause I needed you here, so how about staying a little longer. MOM- I guess I don't have a choice, do I? ME- I love you Mom!