Ashes and Dust

Today I learned of my friend's mother's passing, and in between my words of consolation I found myself envying her mother's eternal rest.  Life has become rather tedious, and the moments of disappointment outweigh joyous ones.

Unlike her mother, I don't want a funeral.  Funerals comfort the living.  The only person to whom I owe closure is Emily.  All the rest can keep their phony concern to themselves; they will not use my funeral to feel better about our relationship.  Flowers should be given and kind sentiments should be expressed while people can appreciate them; corpses have no need for kindness or contrite gestures.

I'm a cremation girl.  Scatter my ashes at the Jersey shore so when the wind blows it will comfort Emily because it will be like me caressing her cheek.  I still want a funeral Mass, but it can be a private affair in a small Church.  Again, who needs people to pay their respects when they didn't respect me while I lived?

Words are meaningless; actions reveal true feelings and kinship.

I'll make a pot of spaghetti sauce with meatballs and sausage so her family can have an easy meal during this difficult period, and I'll attend her mother's funeral because I want to be there for her.  That's how I can best manifest my support.