Wishful memory

I'd like to be a memory. A nice one, one that is remembered with fondness, leaving a little ache where I'm missing.

I dreamt of my funeral - lots of people, open casket. As I've always instructed, no black allowed. I want bright colours. I want lots of "Remember?....lol". White flowers, but no roses. I can't smell them. And a party for afters. Where everyone can eat resois, just like I ate at grandpa's funeral. He is the perfect memory. "When you're in my house, you can do whatever you want." Sock slide across the floor, eat in the bedroom and feed the fishes until we eventually killed them (though he didn't endorse that).

I don't want pictures anywhere. I want them in people's minds. With Eric Clapton as my background score - Tears in Heaven. And then, Metallica's Nothing Else Matters as my message to Jonathan. I requested that song for his 21st birthday. We heard it at home on Worldspace. They said his name and mine, and they got the pronounciation right. I was so happy I stopped eating.

Finally, only family. Every last member together at the beach. The sunset and the shack. Shorts and slippers and chutney sandwiches. The salty breeze whipping around. U Rui and his piano, U Bosco and his mouth organ, the bongos and one of the kids shaking the tambourine as they run across the sand laughing. A strumming guitar and beautiful voices, a little tipsy and getting higher, singing songs I know and those I don't. And A Queenie's soulful Ave Maria, a prayer for me.

And I will sing with you. In the breeze, the clouds, the whispering sands, the trembling leaves. I will sing, and never be scared again.

Do not miss. Remember.