|I went to my Godfather's funeral today. Well, it wasn't really the funeral since he's going to be buried in Mexico, it was more like a viewing. He's only the second person I've seen dead. The first was my mother. My grandmother, who was his sister-in-law, wept because she said that seeing him reminded her of my mother's passing. I had the same feelings, but, like the emotional cripple that I am I didn't shed a tear. I did the other night. Today did make me think of my own mortality. I guess death does that to people. I saw my Godmother cry and everyone else's faces were so sad and I thought, that's not how I want to be remembered. I get so much joy from seeing others laugh and smile that if there is a heaven, I would hate to see my love ones cry over my passing. I thought that I might plan on making my funeral a happy event. One where those who knew me would smile and not cry so much, if at all. I wouldn't be insulted if someone burst out laughing at my funeral. I guess that's just how I am. Still, the idea of having a fun funeral is a strange one, but I think that it's not a totally bad one. At the same time, I thought about how I haven't left much in this world. I'm trying to write something for the ages, but I know that I'm not quite good enough for that. I recently reread "The Great Gatsby" and I relate so much to Gatsby that it's scary. Everything that he did was for the love of a woman. There was a point in my life when I was the same. I shouldn't make that sound like it's in the past since all that I am now is for that special someone. Granted, they won't ever come along, I know that now. Nevertheless, I can't go through life thinking that they are not out there. Talia seemed to be that one, for a fraction of a second at least... but I can't figure her out. Maybe there isn't anything to figure out. I don't know, how do you put your hand in the fire when you've burned it so many times? I think it's best that I just concentrate on this book and my short stories. I get an idea a day almost... now if I had the time to finish them all. The end seems so far away with all these projects, especially the book. I hate to put my name, granted my pen name, on something that's bad. That may be all right for others, but I can't do that. When I'm shuffling off this mortal coil and my soul leaves my body and ceases to exist, I want to know that I left something behind, like all those great writers that influence me today. I like that my words touch people, and I want them to touch more people. We're here for such a blink of time that I feel so insignificant in the grand scale of things at times. Yet, we also have this unique ablity to transcend even our own deaths by leaving something of ourselves behind for all the world to see. That's my only goal now... love eludes me, and always will, so I can't wait for that anymore. Sure, I'll still love, I just can't let anyone know it.