On the way to a funeral home, I heard all the commotion about the lifeless body in the coffin. A person dresses in black with a sad face or a drunken looking one, couldn’t tell which one, talked to another. “He was my best friend I know him since we were in high school.” One of the guys said, “I remember you two used to play basketball and hang around a lot.” They went on telling all those lies about the guy inside the casket. People who didn’t know the deceased were crying saying beautiful things about him. I looked at them but kept walking toward the coffin.
I peek inside to my surprise the person looks like me. Scared the hell out of me. I observe him for a few minutes. “Oh my God, it’s me,” I said to myself. Eyes wide open and quivering I look around to see if I knew anybody in the room. I recognize a couple of the people there but most of them I didn’t. I stand in front of the coffin looking down on myself or what was left of it, and thought it was too early for me to cross to the other side.
I am on my casket face up, eyes shut, pale skin; as pale as a dark skin could be, hair nicely combed. I am looking down at myself thinking how many things I didn’t do in my lifetime. I had a beautiful relationship but didn’t get on my knees in time to complete the circle, and because of that, I didn’t marry. After the break up I wasted my time on insignificant romances, parties, booze, and drugs. I didn’t cultivate a loving relationship that could last. Now, I wonder while watching myself inside that coffin; could I have been a good husband, a good father? Would I have someone crying at my funeral for real or just for show? What will be written on my tombstone? The man who dies alone because didn’t commit to an authentic relationship? Too many questions came hunting me while standing over my lifeless corpse. I got out of the wooden box went to live a little before the undertaker come looking for me.