My funeral
.... the death of me
Dear reader,
I think this has been the longest I’ve stayed away from Substack and a proper catch-up is in view. You see lately, I’ve been thinking about death; both literal and figurative.
Today’s piece centers on the kind of death that leaves versions of ourselves behind.
It’s a story that requires your imagination, and I hope it means something to you too.
Enjoy.
My feet slammed against the concrete, each step heavier than the last as I entered the room.
The air felt wrong. Thick, even.
Bodies moved hurriedly.
The scent of anxiety wafted through the air.
And then my eyes caught something.
A familiar face.
I forcefully pushed my way through the thick crowd, panting as though I had ran an 800-metre race.
Nothing in this room made sense.
Why was everyone suddenly hunched over?
Why was there a body on the floor, for God’s sake?
The distance between where I now stood and the entrance I had just come through was too short for a scene like this.
What is going on?
My mind couldn’t catch up.
The noise in the room began to fade.
Like the first time I fainted, the ringing in my ears grew louder, and the blur at the edges of my vision intensified.
No.
No, no, no.
My hand trembled as I slowly raised it to my face.
My chin. My nose. My eyes.
I was here.
I was real.
But if I’m real...
Why was I the body being lifted into the car?
I turned sharply.
The room was gone.
No crowd. No chaos.
Only the white doors of an ambulance.
And there I was.
Laid on a trolley.
Still.
Dead.
My knees buckled.
I reached out.
Cold metal. Cold skin.
My body.
And something in me cracked open.
Omo.
I wept.
Oh, I wept.
I knew this day would come.
The day we would part ways.
I knew her.
And I loved her.
And that... was the problem.
So much inspired this piece, and I hope you can see what it is pointing to.
1. We will keep evolving, shedding old habits that no longer serve us and, by God’s grace, becoming more like Him.
2. It’s time to grow up and simply be. There is no reason to hold on to what isn’t good for you, especially when the issue isn’t external, it’s you. Make those choices.
3. In this walk with Jesus, parts of us will die, and it is necessary to count the cost. Grieve, my dear. Wipe your tears, and keep moving.
I hope to give more context soon, but for now, let me know what you think.
Can you relate?