If there's a funeral I'd be there but I don't know there will be or if I could be but I'd like to be. I thought of it many times growing up actually. I remember when Steve died in a car crash on a rainy night on the island and they came and knocked on the door of the fisherman's shack I stayed in and I couldn't open the door. At his funeral they burned four sets of clothes and four meals for his journey to the next world. An eagle flew in circles above the smoke. I think that may have been Steve as well as a curious eagle. I'm almost more curious now about the past than when I lived in it.

Oh and this started when I saw a post about living funerals.