((I attended a funeral recently and this is kind of based on that... so, yeah. A little depressing. Although, I will admit, it wasn't supposed to be that way.))
Death.
Its one of the few things guaranteed in life.
You can hope to be strong,
To be rich,
To be famous.
But all those things have to be worked at to happen.
Death is promised.
So many things run through my head as I walk up the funeral home’s concrete steps.
Silence.
There is only the whoosh of cars and tap of feet streaming through my ears.
Such a solemn feeling I had,
That,
Even though I didn’t know well the man deceased,
There was a lot of grieving for him.
The people whose lives he had changed,
He had touched…
The people he had loved,
And the people who had loved him in return.
They must all be very sad.
And I will admit it was so strange,
To walk through the doors and follow the line of people waiting to talk to his family…
And then to see his body.
It looked like wax, his skin,
His eyes were closed…
You wouldn’t have known he had lived,
Just by glancing at him.
That someone so alive one moment,
Could be so dead the next.
My mom told me that our body is just a shell,
A skin and bone doll to harbor our soul;
The real us.
I often wonder if that’s true.
And,
If so,
Where do our souls go after we die?
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