No, She Isn't

Many, many years ago, the father of a very good friend of mine passed away very suddenly.  He and his siblings traveled in from their various quarters for the funeral.  

The day before the funeral, because Mother had chosen a closed casket, the children gathered at the funeral home for a final look.  My friend chose not to go.  His reason has always stuck with me.

“It wasn’t him.  He was gone.  They just went to look at the empty package.”

  
She’s not “coming home,” DUMBFUCK.  She’s gone, and she’s not coming back.  It’s not even the package she came in. It’s the scrapings from the floor of the incinerator that destroyed the package she came in.

Photographs are a better reminder.  I have a particularly nice one, if anyone would like to see it.

No, she’s gone on to a better place.  Which isn’t saying much; every inch further from a DUMBFUCK is a better place.

Just one Zombie’s opinion; your personal mileage may vary.

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Author: Paul Krendler

The Thinking Man’s Zombie

13 thoughts on “No, She Isn't”

    1. I've handled cremains. It's not hard not to spill them as you put them into an urn. In fact, you just leave them in the damn bag and put the bag in the urn. Crimeny. Just pick up the plastic bag from the box and put the plastic bag into the urn. Ding, fries are done!

      He makes routine tasks exhausting.

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