In the year 4005, my funeral will have been over long ago. My sister's funeral, the same. Our bodies will probably be considerably disintegrated, dusty chunks lining a what is left of an underground casket. The wishes our loved ones sent to us, wishes to "rest at peace", may be too old to hold water anymore. Is it still seen as resting anymore, after nearly one thousand years? Or is it something more stagnant and finite? I look at graves only one hundred years old and think of something more ephemeral than a body at peace, without conscious being. What wish does one give to the contents of a ragged, thousand-year-old wanna-be casket? Perhaps one only thinks that our archaic clothes looked silly or asks themselves how we could stand to travel so slowly.
In less than twelve hours, I will be looking into a casket and upon the body of a loved one. These thoughts will enter my head. In the year 4005, this casket will not matter. There are worse things, I suppose. Like, this casket not mattering now. Thankfully, this is not the case. I will be looking into a casket, into the face of a beloved relative, and I will take a moment to study his face, hair, and overall demeanor. And then, I will look any signs that the mortician has been there (there will likely be none, I've yet to really find a good one at a funeral). I will continue to look, with tears in my eyes, and wonder how many cotton balls they used to stuff him. I know they put them in their mouths to retain the shape, since their teeth are taken out. I imagine they do the same to the eyes, though I do not know. Though, I know they glue the eyes and I look for the glue. I know that they cut the stomach like a three slice pizza and peel it back to retrieve the organs, then seal it shut again. wonder how much they weigh after being prepared compared to how much they weighed when they were alive or dying. I would like to talk with someone as they prepare the dead. I wonder how it changes their view on humanity and the people in their life. I would like to ask if they would be honored to, say, prepare their mother when she dies, or if that matters more on her attitude in life.
In less than twelve hours, I will have walked past a coffee pot at least once. I will wonder why coffee and tea are considered appropriate for a funeral, but why food is not. I want there to be food at my funeral. And alcohol. And music. I want the cotton balls in my body to vibrate from the music, footsteps, laughter, and tears. I want the cotton balls to ever so slightly soak up the smell of the food my family got to eat at my funeral, not just coffee and their perfume and flowers (and the inside of my dead mouth). Of course, these things will not matter to me anymore, by this time, so I guess coffee and tea will not be so bad.
In the year 4005, I wonder if there will still be cotton balls...
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