RIP

His makeup wasn’t good at all. There were smudges of foundation over his lip and the powder was obvious. The lipstick was light pink but it wasn’t flattering. His hair was combed back with pomade and there were a few gray ones showing. He didn’t look like his picture, not even close. My thoughts were interrupted by my cousin’s movements behind me. She didn’t want to see a dead man. Oh, I forgot, this was an uncle who had a massive myocardial infarction. I’m so used to looking at dead bodies, much more, touching them, that I forgot I was in a wake. I didn’t know this man that no emotion could strike me.

When I die, I want my coffin black, shiny, and SEALED, with no chick on top. I don’t want people’s last memory of me to be a dead face in the casket. No graduation pic too, just happy pics with friends and family. No big, red, bright lights please, just some soft, soothing light flooding the entire room. If there be flowers, please don’t send them in those ugly arrangements. Let there be food, lots and lots of food, catered if you please. Let there be a dress code, wear something chic, put on something you’d wear for a dinner out. I will have people stationed outside to do a critique on your outfit and guards to prevent you from entering if you don’t meet the requirements. I want kids running about and people laughing and gossiping (not about me). And friends, all my friends. I will haunt you if you don’t come. I want you all to say nice things about me. Burn my remains and do whatever you want with my ashes. And don’t cry for me. Just let me go.