Saturday, 6 June 2015


When I die, I hope people remember that I enjoyed life.

That despite the anxious moments I took great delight in foolishness and sunsets and crisp autumn mornings. That I loved animals and mountain views and good food.

That I lived for my children, their laughter and company, our impromptu drives through the suburbs and the way they’d implore “turn the music up!”

I hope they know that I knew about death and what it means to those you leave behind.

I hope they celebrate my little life and eccentricities, and don't mourn too deeply in a pre-fab, cut-cost funeral home.

I hope they get together sometimes to reminisce about funny things I did or said. The way my hair was lop-sided and messy. The way my eye sight was poor, like my judgement and singing. The way I interrupted and day dreamed and didn’t listen sometimes. Infuriating things.

When I die, I hope my loved ones are beside me and all is forgiven.

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