Where the Good Ones Go (BEDA #7)

Today was my grandpa’s funeral. I don’t really want to talk about it. Nor do I really want to blog. But that’s part of the deal. 

I guess, all I’ll say is that my grandfather was not a religious man, but he was buried in a very religious town, so the minister/priest/reverend/shaman/witch doctor (what are they called?) who officiated/hosted/mc’d (what’s it called?) the funeral kept saying that even though Bailey was not religious in the traditional sense, he wanted nothing more than for his kin to accept Jesus as their savior, especially on this holy weekend. 

Let me set the record straight: this idiot knew nothing about the extraordinary man who was my grandfather, and the last thing he would have wanted was for some bumbling hick with a degree from Churches-R-Us to be rooting through his bible for appropriate biblical verses. 

Therefore, in order to avoid this monstrosity at my own funeral, which is impending whether or not I would like it to be, I have selected my quotations ahead of time. My brother and sister have both agreed to uphold my wishes should I die before them. 

My funeral quotations: 

“When he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.” 
-Shakespeare

“Do not pity the dead Harry, pity the living. And above all those who live without love.”
-Dumbledore, Jo Rowling

And of course: 

“Live to the point of tears.”
-Albert Camus

That’s really all I can do for you tonight, folks. It’s been a rough day. 

Hours worked: 4
Live performances seen: 0

“My grandpa said that he wandered himself off into the heart of the forest/And his colour still sings the engraves of his name/And he chases field mice under moonlight” -Danielle Ate the Sandwich