Gallagher and Carver
I suppose, sometime in the future, I will frequent cemeteries.
God – what an awful thought.
I don’t like to even imagine the scene.
Why would I be there? Not sure.
It seems that going there will bring plenty of heartache – the memories of the person that I will visit. Things I will say in my head to them, our conversations all taking place in my head.
Will I bring flowers? Momentos? Will there be a grave to tend to?
I’m too busy living to think about the dead…and I wish to be busy living for a long time.
I remember as a teenager thinking about my loved ones and how I would feel after they were dead.
In those days, I remember thinking that it would be so much better if I died before they did…so that I would not have to feel the pain of their death, and absence.
Death is a difficult part of life. I’m not sure how I will react when death is a presence that becomes familiar to me.
Will I grow from death as I have often heard people do? Or will I shrink into a tight ball of black mass?