All We Ever Wanted Was A Diorama

It was an open casket funeral that changed my life. There was something about the dim lighting and all the people I wasn't old enough to know. And they were crying and showing far too much emotion in front of strangers.

It was a Tuesday in Central Indiana and the hallway leading to the parlor was poorly lit. It was almost as if they weren't expecting us, or anyone for that matter. But around the bend, we went. It was during the wake that they let go of my hand and I thought to look up at everyone older than me.

As a child, I was used to being smiled at. In fact, I had come to expect it. But today, no one smiled for me. There was a lot of sobbing and looking to the front of the room. And there it was.

It was the first time I saw a dead body. He was old and frail and dressed in a grey suit that he likely hadn't worn in years. Much to the dismay of my grandmother, I touched his hand. I couldn't help myself. Curiosity can be your biggest adversary when you're a young person catapulted into these very ripe situations. And I was no exception.

He was cold. And his eyes were shut. I didn't envy him, having to sleep so perfectly and live up to the disproportionate image of nostalgia that was slowly forming in the room. It was a pedestal he hadn't asked for. In fact, I'm pretty sure all he had ever wanted was a catafalque that resembled Lincoln. But such is life, and the end of life, without your wish.

I took my seat in the back of the room only to look out into that hallway and spot something black and shiny in the corner. Sneaking out, I discovered a microwave. It was discomforting and it rubbed me the wrong way. And since it was out of place, I unplugged it from the wall, marched up the stairs to the office of the undertaker, walked out to the balcony, and threw it off. It was death on impact for the appliance. There were pieces everywhere and let's just say if it needed an open casket funeral, there would have to be some serious work done to put this baby back together.

I stood there on the balcony, my hands shaking from the cold, my breath the monotonous reminder of my absence from downstairs. It felt good having everything out in the open.

Just then, all the middle aged mourners on the porch looked up at me in bewilderment and I felt grateful for the fact that it would be years till I become that soured on life.