While he was here

I think Jerry Lewis has the right idea:

I don’t go to funerals. I happen to think it’s uncivilized. I don’t go to funerals if he’s the best friend of my life. He died, but I felt pretty good about not going to the funeral because I told him how much I loved him WHILE HE WAS HERE. What am I gonna do at the funeral and the box? He can’t hear me. I gotta go get dressed up and get sad? I don’t need that. I’m not gonna have one, that’s for sure.

My own dad said many years ago that we should “just set me out with the trash.” I didn’t feel any better after his funeral, or any other one I’ve been to. And if I had my way I’d never go to another one.

I’ve never been a party person, either. To me it’s just a period of enforced fun. And a funeral is a period of enforced grief. Screw that. I’ll grieve when and how I want to. And I do, every day.


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