Post Mortem

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic


A man contemplates death after attending a funeral.

Submitted: August 15, 2018

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Submitted: August 15, 2018

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  As I drove home from the cemetery, I thought that the burial was so much better than the 'service.' Held in that place where colored glass paints pretty pictures of angels, those fantasy things with wings which don't exist. They do attract your attention though, brought forth through sunlight and the hands of men.

  In totality it is called a funeral, the ceremony for a dead person. The phrase confounded, I would even say haunted, if I wasn't the person that I was.

  That night, I needed wine and a dictionary to figure it out. I looked up the words dead and person to try and understand the empty space of someone I had stood before just a week ago. What I read in just a few words didn't help, until dead led me to death, which led to post mortem. And there within the P section I read of an evaluation of some event just ended.

  Sitting back, I thought of ending, then of post and past and passing, which led me to moving forward found within the M's. And you know, with that, the burial made sense.

  The ground, it holds you in a place of peace, which in this existence we seldom understand. Moving, the passing, is not of angels but of people, the unknown and life.

  I retired to my bed at mid-night, my restless thoughts meeting a conclusion, the autopsy of my spirit complete. And with the acceptence of what must be, I fell into calming sleep.


© Copyright 2018 LE. Berry. All rights reserved.

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