actually, it's not that simple.

its not. this death thing.
you think before he goes, you want him to be happy and dead.
so that he would not have to suffer anymore.
so that we don't have to see him lying there rotting away.

but then it happens. when he does die.

you change your mind
you want him around you and the family
not in that brown coffin, well, dead.
and you want him out of the furnance
next to you.

its funny how we contridict ourselves. the whole funeral was a big joke to some.
how we stand there with tears on our cheeks
but telling ourselves he's in a better place

then your mind plays little tricks on you.
a little story plays out on what he is doing now in 'heaven'
what he must be eating
is there cigarettes and beer there for him
are his dogs (who died too) there with him.
is he decked in white and gold
like those movies we see.

is he clean shaven or his moustache still there? he never could decide which was a better look.
is he bloated like he is on earth or is he thin like he was suppose to be?
was the sky grey 'on purpose' today?
or were we looking too much into it?

i'm just relieved its over. the crying game has stopped.
my grandma deserves an award.

i wonder what's worst: losing a husband, a sister or a son.

maybe i'll ask grandma one day.
or maybe i'll know one day.