A few years ago, I wanted to commit suicide.
Not because I really wanted to; I was just curious to see who would come to my funeral. I completely planned it. I had the song I wanted my parents to play (I'm not telling, so no one steals my idea). I planned a winter funeral, so it will be gray with an option for it to rain (so the dramatic effect will be greater). I planned what I'm gonna write to everyone, and how whoever reads my letter will immediately burst into tears.
Obviously, everybody will say that I was gorgeous, amazing, talented, special bla, bla, bla, cause for some reason. Anyone who dies suddenly would become the greatest person in the world, even if he was a dick head.
And I will float from above, protected from the wind, cause I'm a ghost, and I will observe everybody and see who's really sad and who's just playing sad (although between us, of course, everybody will be devastated) and I'll think of tomorrow.
Believe it or not, but I had planned from here until there for what I'm going to do in the other world.
First thing, I would go to see my Grandfather that I loved so much.
He would right away get me into business, and he would probably sit with his pipe, and I would inhale the sweet scent I missed so much.
And after he would have made me a meat stew, even though I would have told him that since he died, few things have changed and I became a vegetarian, but he would probably have told me to "stop with my nonsense, so I would just eat the potatoes.
And I would have told him that he had new grandchildren (great-grandchildren not yet, cause his grandchildren are a bit problematic), and I would have told him how much I missed him. I'm sure he would have known all that, but from me, he would have gotten it with comments.
And then we would have set a date for a Friday dinner, and I would have gone to look for Elvis. The king. The one and the only one.
He probably went on a diet and went back on being the most handsome man in the world. Both worlds.
And then I would have told him that my dream was for him to dedicate me his song "You were always on my mind," but when I was 3, he was found on the toilet, blown up from all the drugs, so I didn't make it.
And he would sit with his guitar and sing it from the start till the end, and I would probably get teary eyes, and then I would ask him to make his famous hip move, and then I would invite him to come for a Friday dinner with my Grandfather, Tibi.
And then I would have gone to look for Louis Armstrong, who my Grandfather loved so much, and I would have told him that at my Grandfather's funeral we played two of his songs, cause that's what my Grandfather wanted. After all, before he died, he said that if people want to talk good about him, they should say it while he's alive and that on his grave, he wants Louis. And I would also invite him to the Friday dinner and tell him to bring his trumpet, cause Elvis will be there also, so an improvised show might take place.
And after I would have done those, I would have looked for a coffee place cause there's no way Heaven doesn't have coffee places, and I would have found one. I would have ordered a large cappuccino and a big slice of cheesecake |(it is not that every day you arrive Heaven so that I can celebrate with 500 calories). I will have asked the waiter if it's allowed to smoke. He would have laughed and said that "sure, it's not like it is gonna kill you," and I would light a cigarette and drink the coffee and eat the cake in 3 big bites and read the daily newspaper, which they probably have there so that people will stay posted with the daily events.
And after this, I would have gone to see James Dean, whom I had a poster of, and when I was little, I imagined that if he knew me, there is no way he would crash into a truck and say goodbye to this world way too soon.
And I would have told him about the poster (and think it's special) and that I was in love with him, years after he was in the ground (and he will definitely think it's special) and I would have invited him also to the Friday dinner.
But, I decided not to commit suicide because I realized that I still have so much to do, and for the truth to be told, I just love Friday dinners down here.