Statistically I am destined to fade into the unknown. Sounds ominous, but let’s not do me any favors. I want it to be ominous, it will be a blink. At my funeral someone should read all of my life stats, such as:
How many times did I almost speak up?
How many times did I demand my dog tell me all his secrets?
How many times did I forget what I was saying mid-sentence?
How many times did I really try?
How many times have I listened to Jeff Buckley sing Hallelujah?
How many first dates?
How many times did I need to be seen or heard to remember I was here?
How many miles have I hiked?
How many times did I have to re-tie both shoes because one was too loose and if you only tighten one your other foot will disagree?
How many times did I pick up a guitar and play the same 3 chords over and over and over?
How many windows have I stared out of as if there was another dimension on the other side?
How many times have I wished I was a plant? A dinosaur?
How many fresh starts?
How many books have I read?
How many words can you fit on a grave?