Just came back from a funeral.

One person was commenting on the finality of it all.

No duh.

Just because it’s final, doesn’t mean it’s bad.

What? Death is not bad?

Not if you consider the alternative: A planet with standing room only – and farther down the line, a planet with no room at all.

Well, you say, we’ll be on Mars and beyond by that time.

Maybe.

Back to the funeral. The deceased’s children spoke, and it was touching. It almost always is, when the loved ones speak at funerals. I hope people say nice things about me. Actually, I hope they will do a “show and tell” about my life. I’d like that. A big screen slide and movie show in which that scene of my mom feeding me spinach would make everyone smile and laugh. A celebration of life – not death. Show scenes of me being very happy – playing baseball for the neighborhood team, falling on the ice, sitting and laughing with the kids on the sofa in the old house.

Will my family honor my requests? Yes. They will. This essay is now part of my last will and testament.

I didn’t mean to sound morbid. On the contrary, I meant to sound happy! The person who officiated at the funeral today said that a cemetery is also called a “house of life.” That is because the living, assembled there, get to carry on aspects of the life of the deceased, which they either knew or heard about.

Speaking of Mars and beyond (5 paragraphs ago), maybe creatures somewhere in the universe have plans for our deceased spirits. Maybe they know how to turn them into pistachio nuts, or something like that.

If you crave a pistachio nut, wiggle your left ear, and email me at: robertebsen@hotmail.com