Your value: Story of a corpse's soul

Black gowns. White roses. Dark umbrellas soaked in the pattering rain. I’d always watched this in movies. But in real life? That too on my funeral. I wanted to laugh so hard. But then again, I didn’t want to ruin the moment and scare all the people away. Or maybe I was inaudible to them.

Random snippets of the life I’d lived with a body popped up as I saw each and every familiar face out there. Courtney, my best friend. Edmund, the fattest guy at school. I even noticed Paul. We hardly ever got around talking. I really wanted to though. I used to like him. And there he was, sniffing and sobbing. He looked like a kid doing that: completely the opposite of what he used to be at school.

I was enjoying this. Being the center of attention, I mean. But somehow it just didn’t feel right. I felt guilty for making them go through so much. Spend their lives living in sorrow because of me. But it wasn’t my fault now was it? Cancer is never your fault unless you eat too much ketchup and I hate that sauce.

So, forcing that load off my shoulder, I watched as people placed their roses in front of my photograph and patted on each other’s shoulders. They wanted me with them. They missed me. Who knew it was just a temporary feeling. It was there at the back of my mind. I just didn’t feel the need to bring it into consideration...

It’s been one week and I haven’t heard anything more than the sound of the howling day breeze and of the hooting owls at night. And now the truth has finally dawned upon me. The world doesn’t start with you. It doesn't end with you. If you die, others move on. Not the day you die. The next day. Or the next week maybe. But they eventually do.

The sun doesn’t keep itself from rising; the flowers don’t fail to bloom. Everything continues like before. Because then, you are nothing more than just an ordinary pile of dust and bones.