This is What I Think

This is what I think happens when we die.  There is a moment of great fidgeting about and then the people who loved us grieve for a moment and then get on with their lives. 

There may be some people who thrash about more than others (in the dying and the grieving),  but mostly people just move on.

Even if my friends and family do a scene like the one in the cemetery in Steel Magnolias,  it would all be over in about 20 minutes.

I want to try and think about how I shouldn't obsess about death but ultimately I just think that it just sucks.  The dying.  Worse, that when I die,  I will have wrinkles and uncontrollable nose hair.

For a minute, Brian's mom Linda came to my mind.  One minute she was watching tv, some mediocre 80s movie probably, like Short Circuit or Halloween 3, and the next she's gasping for air.

I remember the first time I met her.  I was some stranger her son brought to a family holiday,  July 4th,  I think.  She probably didn't think I would be still in her life 10 years later.  I certainly didn't. 

When Linda died, it was the first time I had been so close to death.

The only other time was when I was 10 or so, my great grandmother died and my mom made me go to the casket and look at her.  I had bad dreams later that night.

In my mind,  I can see Linda puffing away on her cigarette while making thanksgiving dinner, jabbering away with her gravelly Elaine Stritch voice. But that's just a lie my head tells me.  She doesn't really exist anymore, anywhere. Just like when I die, I may flit into someone's mind for a minute and then disappear when they start making dinner, spill their coffee or dab ointment on their herpes sore.