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Whenever Iâm asked how I am thatâs what I always say to strangers, acquaintances and coworkers. Sometimes I say it to friends that I donât feel would understand or care to hear about how I truly feel.
Iâve always been fascinated by those who respond with words like, âterrificâ and âgreatâ. Iâve literally NEVER felt great. Itâs one of the most foreign concepts I can think of. âGreatâ and âterrificâ were never uttered in my household growing up. There were only three answers you would hear from my parents, âalrightâ, âokayâ and âcould be betterâ.
Recently I was chatting with a friend and she asked me how I was doing. I told her that I was alive. She asked me if I could just once lie to her and tell her that Iâm doing great or was never better. That was funny because I said I was alive because I knew she wouldnât want to hear me talk about the truth, like how my health seems to be going downhill and doctors donât seem to have answers to many of my bodyâs medical questions. Iâm also dealing with the realization that there are some everyday tasks that I will never be able to do again. She wouldnât necessarily want to hear about how I have bosses that seem to be doing everything in their power to push me out the door while I also have the pressure of supporting two parents that are in their seventies.
I always felt that friends were the ones that you could tell the truth to when there was no one else. Thatâs why for a while I used to talk to friends about what was going on in my life, but eventually if I didnât have enough positive things to mention I seem to risk running out currency with them. They begin to shy away due to seeing me as negative. I wish I could lie, but lying doesnât come that easy to me and also if I lie to my friends then they become strangers to me, if that makes any sense.
I ask this because I have a friend who on more than one occasion has suggested that I write for a website or blog. Â I asked her why she felt I could write and she told me because I was thoughtful and suggested that I at least try.
Truth be told I always wanted to be a writer/journalist when I was a teen. Â I figured it was the only way I could be close to sports. Â Those dreams kinda died when I realized I hate reading things I have no interest in and also when I would struggle to make word quotas in college courses. Â I would have all the necessary information there and nothing more. Â Iâm not a very strong storyteller and I loathe small talk.
Iâve tried my hand at writing from time to time but whenever I have tried it usually results in little to no response or attention, and Iâm only talking about my friends. Â I figure that if you canât grab your friendâs interest what chance do you have with strangers with no investment in you.
Lately, when I try to write I seem to have a hard time staying on topic or smoothly transitioning from one topic to another. Â I usually have something to say on most topics, but so often I just feel like Abe Simpson.
Most times my comments fly by your timelines without notice. Â In my younger days you may have skipped over them to read the comments of more popular posters on #thatsite.
I guess thatâs part of the reason I question when someone says that I should write. Â If your voice is literally and figuratively hard to hear, how can you be a writer?
I guess I shy away from attempting to write because of how marginalized I feel in my day to day life. Â Why put yourself out there to be ignored offline and online?
Can I write?
Does anyone want to hear from an average, but not normal guy struggling to put one foot in front of the other?
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I just got back from saying goodbye to my aunt today. Â She had been in failing health for sometime. Â Truth be told the mortician did a phenomenal job. Â She looked better in death than she had in life for the last few years.
My aunt was heavy into the church. Â Some people may have even considered her a bible-thumper. Â She was always one of those that would be the loudest voice to be heard while scripture was being read at funerals. Â From the outside looking in youâd think that she was the sweetest lady.
Sheâs a large reason why I knew the church wasnât for me very early on in life. Â I questioned the existence of heaven, hell, God and everything else that came with it. Â She was the first person to show me at a very early age that people who would classify themselves as religious often donât walk the path that they advertise. Â Between the things that I know that she had done first hand to the things that my mother/her sister has told me it. Â She was a passionate woman and many times that passion led to her saying and doing some incredibly nasty things. Â I remember on the way back from my grandmotherâs funeral when I was nine years old. Â We were sitting in the back seat of my parentâs car while they were inside the gas station and she went on a rant about my male cousin who was a hairdresser. Â I donât remember the particulars of the rant, but I do remember that it was the very first time I heard the word âfaggotâ. Â I didnât necessarily know exactly what it meant, but I knew enough to know that my cousin was effeminate and that the term couldnât have been good since she was mad at the time.
This post isnât about religion or my auntâs life. Â This post is death and more specifically funerals. Â As I sat through the service listening to the various speakers I usually kind of zoned out during scripture readings and was kind of inside my own head. Â Iâve always had a problem with people completely scrubbing clean the life of someone I know not to be a straight arrow. Â I donât think anyone should be trashed or ridiculed at their funeral, but the canonizing of everyone who dies and saying that they are going to heaven kind of devalues heaven, theoretically speaking.
I loved and will miss my aunt.  She was always proud of me for no real reason, but her bar was very low.  She was just glad that I wasnât on drugs or in and out of jail like most of the family.  I was sad and teared up more than a few times during the service.  I was partly sad for the lost of my aunt, but it was more for seeing my cousin saying goodbye to his mother who he didnât have the best relationship with.  I was mostly sad for my mother.  Sheâs the last one left after burying her two brothers and two sisters.  Itâs also a sign of death creeping closer to me.  This year my father and my uncle have both had multiple hospital stays where losing them both was a very real possibility.  When thinking about that possibility two things pop into my head:  The first is how much closer I am to being completely alone as an only child.  The second, âWhat will arrangements will I have to make?â  My mom told me that she wants my cousin, the hairdresser than I mentioned earlier, to do her hair.  My dad told my mother and I that he just wants to be cremated and for us to save as much money as we can.  My mom is not thrilled with his wish to be cremated.  lol
I know that Iâm rambling, but Iâm getting to my point right now.
While sitting through my auntâs ceremony, I thought about what I wanted for mine if thereâs anyone around to show up. Â Iâm not religious at all. Â Iâm an agnostic leaning heavily towards atheist the more I see of the world and itâs inhabitants. Â I have no problem with religion and I support anything you need to get you through life. Â Although I donât believe I do believe in your belief if that makes sense.
When I die I donât want a service to be held in a church.  Iâd like it to be at the funeral home or something.  I would hope that anyone that lives in or near my city that loved me would try to make it to the service if they are healthy enough and their jobs would allow them to (gotta keep the lights on in your home).  I wouldnât want a long ceremony, but I would like for everyone that wants to speak to have the chance to.  If you could just tell those there why you liked me.  Funny stories would always be appreciated.  Iâm not narcissistic enough to think I made some huge impact on lives so if you donât have anything to say Iâd understand.  Your presence would be more than enough. If youâre religious I would love for you to read whatever passage of your religious doctrine that you feel is fitting for the occasion and your relationship to me.  Iâm not religious, but I would never stop you from expressing yours.
The most important thing to me is for whoever is in charge of the arrangements to make sure that I have a headstone. Â There are so many people in my family that donât have one. Â You can save money on anything and everything else. Â Iâd prefer you to have me cremated, but whatever you do get me a headstone. Â People may not have paid much attention while Iâm here, but when Iâm gone I would like for there to be some sign that I was here at one time.