I have an image, where everyone I know who’s dead, are all at the same cocktail party having a grand old time.
Hicks, Jack, Joyce, Nancy, Phil, my grandfather, even Auntie Ida, who in unison all cluck…
“Susannah, trust us when we say, all the shit that’s bothering you, doesn’t mean a damned thing up here, so shake it the fuck off.” (I’m assuming they all made it to that heavenly, 5-Star hotel in the sky).
A point you have to admit, well-made.
Then I muse about the thousands killed on 9/11. What were they worried about on their last day on earth? My rent is due, he didn’t call, I’ve gained a pound and didn’t get the job. I need a facelift, hate my boss…need a holiday, need a change.
Be careful what you wish for.
Forgive the appearance of irreverence, truly not the case. But it does help to remind ourselves, we’re not on the planet forever.
When those whiny winds blow with us at the wheel steering a crooked ship, it helps to remember, one day our room too, will be ready.
That’s right, bay-ba…that’s right.