A couple days ago I rode a crazy motorcycle-train type thing through the jungle, and as I was sitting in the very front I was marginally scared I was about to die. My friend I had met the day before jokingly asked me “where do you want me to spread your ashes?”. Except, yikes, then I thought about it the entire time.
I’ve talked about my lack of a physical home before, and it hit me again when I tried to decide where I would spread my ashes. My home lies in people and I can start easy with who should get a piece of ole burnt out me to spread somewhere:
Mom, Dad, Sister
and thennnnn it gets hard
there are so many people I love and ranking them seems so so wrong
But that is not really the point of this post, because, a couple days later a friend asked me what I wanted my funeral to be like, and then, just two nights ago, I found out a somewhat close friend died. Just like that, dead, gone, the whole shebang. So it has been on my mind. What it means to loose someone and what it means when you yourself are gone. I have no good answers.
I am maybe the most spiritual I have ever been in my life, but, still, I find no solace in any sort of afterlife or re-incarceration. I believe in poetry, in words, in telling someone you love them in any way that you can. For me, right now, at the age of 19, sitting in a small bar in Ecuador, the way to find peace in dying is telling people how much I care about them, letting people know when I am thinking about them, and making all of this honesty an innate part of my life.
And I did it, I just messaged someone important to me that I have not talked to in a long time. It was scary and I feel vulnerable but already I feel better. Gonna do it again tomorrow. Gonna work towards making my love known.