Funerals Should Be Joyous
Not for my goodbye
half-hearted expressions of grief,
nor mumbled condolences faintly felt.
For somber attire topped by somber faces,
I have no need.
I came into this world bearing meager gifts,
but if our paths have crossed
and I have ever given you reason,
intentionally or otherwise,
to laugh,
to be glad,
to feel something worth feeling,
if I have managed to give you one moment
during this brief sojourn of mine, and yours,
when you thought to yourself,
“Right now, I’m glad to be alive,”
then I’d much rather you be joyous.
Clap your hands, if you would be so kind,
join in a small ruckus of valediction,
however undeserved,
when they wheel away my casket,
and let it reverberate
with your affirmation that
you’re glad, in the final reckoning,
that I have once been here.
Celebrate,
with your kind applause,
not the things I have said or done,
but the fact that we have briefly been joined
in a doomed quest
for meaning and happiness,
and bravely pursued
our defiant love of life
in the face of loveless time.
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