"A Funeral," July 7, 2010.

I wrote this today as the submission to the Contra Costa Times Life in Perspective board. The prompt was to write a 500-700 word piece on something that changed my life. This is what I wrote.

In May, I was having a pretty rough time. My longtime girlfriend had dumped me, my grades were slipping, and my prospects were bleak. I didn’t know how to resolve anything, nor did I know in which direction to proceed. I needed to start over, but I knew that living life full of anger and angst as I had been for the last two years would only bring me to the same conclusion I was living presently. Something needed to change, but I couldn’t put a finger on what. This only served to worsen the condition, because I couldn’t escape the bad emotions and mindset that engulfed me. I needed to move on.

I pondered what to do for quite awhile, until I found what I needed in a place I didn’t expect to; a funeral.

A family friend had died, but it wasn’t someone I was particularly close to, so it wasn’t as gut-wrenching as the event could have been. Still, I was being surrounded by two hundred sad folks, and the mood in the church rubbed off on me nonetheless.

Since I didn’t have people to converse with besides my own family, I was left alone with my thoughts. As the people in the church looked solemnly ahead, singing, I wondered who would turn out for me when I bit the big one. I wondered who would care enough to attend, and who would roll their eyes and sigh when they were told they had to go. Everybody is different, so it’s fair to assume that the turnout for my funeral would be much different than this family friend’s. The priestess kept referring to the fallen as being a joyous person, lighting up the entire room and bringing other gloriously good things to the people she knew. With her saying that, I wondered what I am to others.

Most of the people I know don’t take me seriously. They think I’m too angry, or too mature, or even just too intimidating. With these people being the ones who make up my life, who would miss me? Who would think that something genuinely good had been removed from their lives when I passed away? In truth, the majority wouldn’t. My death would make a difference to some, but not to as many as I’d like. It doesn’t sound like that big of a thing, but all that anybody really wants is acceptance. If nobody cares that you’ve gone, does it mean they didn’t want you there in the first place?

While the priestess was giving bread and wine to those in the audience, I experienced a rare epiphany.

If I wanted to have a fruitful life, I shouldn’t let things like a girlfriend or bad grades affect me. Neither of those things change who I am. I am the only thing that changes me. I determine my mood, and I determine how I treat people. It wasn’t something that was up to other people, as I had thought it was. It is something I am responsible for, something completely within my control. If I wanted to be happy, I should be happy. It sounds rather elementary to say, but after all, I am still a child. Childhood is when you get everything together.

As I exited the church, and drove home with my family, I felt relieved of my problems. The only thoughts that passed through my head were of what tomorrow could bring. Not of the failure that could be, but more so the possibilities that reigned.