Crypt dweller

On top of the tombs, the flowers wilted and the candles melted. The living who paid their one year guilt of forgetting, left the dead for the earth...Life has to go on for them. So with the dead, death has to go on - some would be cherished and others would be just fertilizers to the dandelions...er, in these parts of the world, lemongrass.

Why is it that the epitaphs here don't tell stories? You see, you had an activity with your boss long before when he told you to write your own. But would that tablet synthesize one's existence? Or simply a poetic justice of his mishaps and failures?

"Here lies a man who lived a life full of fun - booze, sex and drugs. He is well-loved by his friends who think of him as THE GUY." This would raise eyebrows and could make grimaces out from the faces of the conservative flock.

"Here are the remains of a person who devoted his time, treasures and talents for the well-being of others..." This could be superficial too. It might create a stir to others who would pass as crabs in the vicinity.

You then think of such things: we are so busy acquiring things and performing activities that could be considered as funny and rubbish once we imprint them on our epitaphs. You would then worry about your sanity for you oftentimes envy those who "live their lives well". But then, what is "living well"? Whose definition must be followed?

Still, the dead must not worry about the status of the words on their tombs. Who would care about the grammar, the sense and the impact of the words? Who would care when the man inside the crypt is rotting with the maggots infesting his skin (dabbed with gallons of soap and moisturizers before) and flesh?

You could just be with those who celebrate life on top of the faithful departed 's tombs during All Souls' Day and tell others to cut the crap when they'd throw comments about the drinking binges which could sometimes lead to stabbing incidents at the cemetery. They are always equipped with reasons like: It's the only time we could spend with our loved ones! Forgetting that it's their own selfish intentions they're bloating.

Life is filled with mysteries...

I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget...

-(Christina Rossetti - Song)