“There’s something that’s beautiful; being awake for my funeral.”
That’s a line from the musical Black Friday by Starkid. The character sings as she believes she’s dying, and I find myself getting lost in my head when I think about that line and the one following it for too long. There is something beautiful about being aware of those around you as they say their goodbyes. It’s a moment where people can be open. Honest. Something I doubt people do now. There’s something so comforting about it.
There’s something beautiful about what it will be like when I, myself, die. Calm. Peaceful. Just like how she’s singing in those opening lines. All the fears and worries I held so high above me won’t matter. They won’t hurt me anymore. The anxieties that woke me up at three in the morning, my throat swelling and air refusing to make entry. The ones that caused me to tear at my cuticles until I bled. The ones that blocked my vocal cords. They will not affect me once I’m gone. There will be nothing but quiet and peace.
My accomplishments, as well. Nothing I did will matter in the end. Maybe people will remember, but when they’re gone? When the people they tell are gone? My name will be broken from all stones it was once etched in; corroded away by the ocean of time. Every trophy I won, every test I passed, every piece I wrote. It won’t matter when I’m gone, and it should fill me with dread.
I should be horrified at the idea of never being thought of. Of my spirit flickering out of existence, like I feared it would so long ago, but I’m not. I’m content with my body decaying under the ground, feeding the soil and insects that dwell below. I’m content with my only remains being absorbed in the earth. I’m content with my legacy becoming the nature I love so dearly.
There’s something that’s beautiful within death, and there’s something that’s beautiful with knowing what’s to come of my story.
“You can close the casket now.”
Photo by Mario Wallner
