I died three days ago. What a lucky SOB I am; I simply went to sleep and stayed that way. Sorta. I’m stalled here In Limbo. No, not the dance, the state of suspension, the intermediate, the cosmic waiting room. Now, hold your horses, I know you want to know what the hell is over here. Yup, there’s that hell thing to deal with to. I’ll get to that in a moment. Crap, my blog is dead too, or it will be soon. I don’t even remember the last time I wrote a post. And my tweets! My followers, all 47,289 of them… . There must be massive consternation about me on Twitter.
It occurs to me that I may have dropped a couple of F bombs on my priorities back over there. Ya know, I had this list somewhere, a bucket list. Most of my friends didn’t know I kept a bucket list. Hell, I forgot it myself. How did things over there, in life, get so skewed? As I think about it, there is no one thing or person to accuse … except me.
The idea of a list of things to do before I died was of course not exclusive to me. I met a man on a mountain who told me … long story, that doesn’t matter. I got the idea around 1995, and started my bucket list. Fifty things, I thought, fifty things for my list and add to it as I work that down. Life (and death) are spurious events. Apologies to Longfellow, “…things are not what they seem.” I toiled over my list day and night, and finally came up with ten items. Ten items. Now I can easily think of a hundred things. No, things are not what they seem.
Over the years, my wife helped with the list. She paid more attention to me and my wants and wishes than I did. Till the day I die I won’t forget the hot-air balloon ride… make that for eternity.
Even so, with a mere ten things, the list was never completed. Sidetracked. That damned Interweb thing got me sidetracked somewhere in the mid-nineties.
It was yesterday that I realized I had expired, dead, deader, deadest. What a sobering thought that was. Moving about, watching people, invisible. Oh, you want to know about hell? I suggest you read Dante’s Inferno for more insight into the dark side over here.
I never planned my funeral. I had all the physical aspects in order, it was the other parts I had left undone. Too late now. My wife will see to it, as always. I’ll miss her more than anything else on either side. She was the love of my… Wait, there’s my daughter Stella and Sammy my son. I can hear Sammy talking.
“Dad was OK, ya know, he…”
“He was on that damned computer all the time. Blogging, writing, twitting.”
“Dad loved all that Internet crap. That was his life.”
“Yes, maybe we should put that on his headstone.
‘Dad – Blogger, Tweeter and Nerdy Dweeb’.”
“You’re upset because he didn’t give you enough attention?”
“I dunno, he left me that Mac Pro, and …”
“You know, you’re a lot like dad. You think you’re going to be big man blogger, and…”
“Oh! Yeah! And that damned iPhone, you sleep with it don’t you?”
Kids! Wait! None of that is important. No! I don’t won’t ‘Blogger’ on my headstone, that’s not going to be my epitaph. Crap, they can’t hear me. It’s too late for me to make any decisions about me. I’m dead. Expired like a never read magazine. What’s that?
“Dearly departed. We are gathered here to honor your tweets and posts…”