if i should die before i wake

I'll try to keep this short and simple.

Our final 'big' creative project for Professor Baronet's class is- 

'Design your own tombstone.'

Well. I can honestly say that I've never done any project even remotely similar to this. 

The concept is alarmingly exciting, yet cold and sobering at the same time.

Thought provoking to say the least.

To truly get into it you would need a better understanding of the project as a whole, which I might try to summarize in a later post, but for the time being I shall delay.

Context wise all you need to know is the prompt for Part 1,

"Write 2 sample eulogies (friend, family member, future spouse, etc.) 300-500 words each."

So I have drawn up this post as a means of submitting one of my eulogies.

We'll call it an EXTREMELY rough draft to say the least, but anyway
here's my attempt for eulogy number one:

It’s a Tuesday at 10:45.

And if I sit still, and stare straight ahead- I can almost see her.

Almost but not quite.

I have to be careful, for if I turn my head her way – even for an instant – she’ll leave.

She won’t be unzipping her little white pencil case.

She won’t be sipping her tea.

She won’t be absently scribbling in her notes.

She won’t be there.

The difference isn’t earth shattering. Just slightly empty.

If she were here, I still wouldn’t hear her.

We wouldn’t speak.

No pleasantries to miss, besides the occasional “Hey,” or “Good Morning” we might share if she was having what I would assume to be an especially great day.

But now I’ve noticed.

Maybe I didn’t at first.

I mean sure I got the email-

the one they send when we lose someone.

And I would like to think that I left hers up for at least three seconds longer than I usually would.

Not out of recognition, or reflection; no.

But perhaps out of surprise at the very least.

 After all, it isn’t uncommon to hear of a

‘Former, vice co-chair of pre-alumni communications’

whom bit the dust

But just some girl?

We were the same age,

 though now I’ve surpassed her and she’ll never catch up.

That’s not what’s supposed to happen.

Not to us.

I guess from there it took about three weeks.

Three weeks to note her absence.

First week; ill perhaps?

Second week; must have quit.

Third week; she might have been ‘her.’

That girl that no one speaks of because she never spoke.

I still have her pencil you know.

The one from that rainy Thursday when we had a quiz.

“Does anyone have a pencil I could borrow?” was all I asked.

“Sure,” she replied and handed me this small yellow, pink, and chrome thing.

“Thanks.” Said I.

“No problem.” Said she.

But I can’t return it now.

What an odd item it would be to place at a grave among the flowers.

So I’ll keep it, at least for a while.

At least until I stop wondering what might have happened if I had ever said hello.

At least until I forget.

It’s a Tuesday at 10:45.

And if I sit still, and stare straight ahead-

I can almost see her.

Don't laugh! It's not THAT bad... 

Oh and yes, I did seriously dodge that whole "friend, family, future spouse etc" thing."

In case you didn't pick up on it, the eulogy above is one from an imaginary person

that might sit beside me in some random class.

Not exactly anyone I would have an emotion connection to.

So yes, this was an extreme delay from having to dig to deep, or seriously

contemplate anything to depressing.

But I suppose I'll have to dive right into all that emotional mess for my next one.

I'll admit that I'm not the sort of person to wear my heart on my sleeve,

or (God forbid) share feelings. 

Therefore, if by some strange turn of events I do really get involved in my next eulogy, don't be surprised if I don't actually post it- or if I do we'll see how long I manage to keep it up. 

 Warmest of Regards,

Lauren