Welcome to my Funeral

And because it’s my funeral, just like my birthday, this is about me. So, before you read any further, I want you to listen to this song. Just press play and let it run quietly in the background while you read. Please don’t rush. Just sit with me in this moment.

Now, grab a seat.

It’s my wake-keep, and you’re wearing white. I died a few weeks ago, and now it’s finally real that I’m gone. Gone to where? Honestly, we don’t even know. My journey through this world is over, and now you’re here, listening to people say things about the kind of life I lived.

I’m not going to lie; I’m actually surprised Bella is saying something nice about me. Didn’t we fall out two years ago? Or maybe funerals are just like birthdays. People suddenly remember only the good parts of you. Everything becomes sweet and sentimental. And I’m lying here wondering, where were all these words when I was still around to hear them?

Even Seun is talking about how I was one of the best people he ever met. I mean, really? Be serious. But I guess death just turns everybody into a better version of themselves, both the dead and the living.

They’re taking turns now, one after the other, reading out their tributes. Some are stumbling through their words. Some sound like they memorized their grief from a Pinterest quote. And then there are those people who just stand there in silence, fighting the lump in their throat and letting their tears do the talking.

There’s a framed picture of me next to the coffin. I already know which one it is, and I hate it. I remember how much I complained about the makeup on my face in that photo and how my lace wig was not well laid. They really had one job and still chose that picture. But I guess that’s what happens when you don’t get to pick your final photo.

Someone says I was kind. Someone else says I had a beautiful smile. I’m just lying there wondering if anyone will mention that I was angry sometimes. I remember when Daniel called me an angry short woman but now, he is acting like I was soft and sweet every day of my life. Why are we always pretending? Wouldn’t it be more comforting if they just told the truth?

Then the pastor gets up to preach. He’s talking about heaven and peace and eternal rest. I want to believe him but a part of me also wants to get up and ask, what if I wasn’t ready? What if I still had things to say? What if I needed one more hug, one more voice note, one more dinner with my siblings?

And just when I think he’s done, he says people shouldn’t grieve me for too long. That I wouldn’t want them to be sad. Honestly, that’s not true. Don’t speak for me, pastor. I want them to cry, I want them to miss me, and I want them to feel it deeply. I want them to sit in the pain of my absence and take their time.

After the message, it’s time to view my body, it is weird that the pastor called it “remains” though but then, that is what it really is now. People start standing up row by row and the room goes quiet in a very heavy way. Then someone gets close to the coffin and lets out a loud cry. Another person starts crying. My sister can’t even look. My brother just stands there, staring at my face like he’s trying to memorize it for later.

And there I am, lying there still and frozen. And who arranged my hands like that? I never sat like that when I was alive. I didn’t even sleep like that.

Everyone is trying to be strong, but I can see it in the way they keep hugging each other too tightly. I just want to tell them it’s okay to fall apart. It’s okay to not be okay.

I didn’t expect death to feel like this. I thought it would be loud or dramatic. But it’s just quiet.

The next day was the actual funeral. You could tell it wasn’t just a ceremony anymore and that it was real now. This was goodbye.

The service started early. Everyone looked dressed up, but nobody really looked okay. My sister wore a grey dress, and she walked up to the front to read the Bible and for a second, I thought she was going to hold it together. She started reading, and it was going fine until her voice started shaking. The words kept coming, but her mouth was trembling, and her eyes were already full. She didn’t stop though. She read the whole thing through tears. That’s my sister. She’s strong like that. Even when it’s hard, she finishes what she starts. She’s just like me.

My brother didn’t say anything. He just sat there, quiet. I feel bad for him because now, he won’t be sending me random gist about his day anymore.

After the church service, everyone went to the cemetery. You would think hearing about death or seeing a casket is hard, but it’s when they start lowering it into the ground that your heart just sinks. There’s no going back from that because that’s when it really becomes final.

My sister was shaking. She cried in a way I’ve never seen before. My brother stood beside her, holding her. People were crying. Someone started a hymn, but their voice cracked halfway, and they couldn’t finish. People threw in handfuls of sand.

And I just kept thinking, is this really it? Is this how life ends? One minute you’re here, trying to figure out your life and become a better version of yourself and the next, you’re being lowered into the ground while people sob and sing at the same time.

It’s wild. Because right after that, everyone started preparing for the reception. One minute people are crying at your grave. The next, they’re changing outfits and asking if there’s small chops. Life really doesn’t wait. People bury you, wipe their eyes, and start talking about jollof rice. Some will even be angry that they didn’t get food. Such is life, I guess.

The world keeps moving, even when it feels like it shouldn’t

I attended a funeral and wake-keep today. That’s what inspired this.
It wasn’t my name on the program. But it made me wonder what people would say if it was.

The strange part is that tomorrow, I’ll be attending a wedding.
From graveside to love vows. lol
Maybe I’ll write about that too.