The Final Curtain

A friend's recent brush with a serious illness led to conversation about the value of friendship. And from there, somehow we ended up talking about whether or not any of my friends would know should I suddenly find myself on a trip back to meet the maker. In any case, they would eventually know but I think the emphasis here is how fast the news would travel. Now there are several scenarios of what will transpire. This might sound like a morbid topic but then again according to a monk I read about once, he actually keeps his homemade coffin around to remind himself of his own mortality, so heck, let's take a shot at this shall we?

Well first, we will consider the nature of my demise. Should I find myself kicking the bucket at home alone, probably from choking, electrocution, crushed from a falling shelf, etc., it will probably take at least over a week before the neighbours begin noticing the foul odour of my decomposing corpse. Of course by then, the gyms would have called my phone repeatedly over my class absence and the coordinators and members would be cursing me for my sudden lapse in responsibility. So let's say they discover my bloated corpse by the seventh day, my death would come to the attention of my family. Finally, the incessant calls from the gyms would eventually be answered by someone and they would be told of my tragic passing. The news begins to travel faster than the speed of premature ejaculation through the gym grapevine, which will eventually reach the ears of my friends. Shocked, they will wring their broken wrists in distress as they begin discussing about the feasibility of attending my funeral, only to realise this fact - they did not know where I came from, therefore would not know where my funeral would be held. They would be alternating between Ipoh and Sitiawan, both of which are not my hometown. Of course by the time they figured it out, I would have been already been cremated for at least three days.

Should I die in the presence of someone, news of my passing would of course travel faster. Someone in my family would either pick up a random call for me or decided to inform my friends via people recorded in handphone, half of which probably doesn't even remember who I am. However, once again they will probably hit the previous snag of not knowing where my funeral would be held which of course and the result will remain the same. Now let's say someone did remember where I come from, they will balk at the location and decide that I will understand that they couldn't attend. Among excuses that will probably be heard are, parents being superstitious of attending funerals and work commitments.

As gothic humour this may sound, it's a sad and possible truth that this may be what will transpire should I die suddenly. I anticipate that at least only two friends will make it to the funeral out of their own steam should they get wind of my demise quick enough. I think they know who they are. This post is not really about death in particular, but how well do we really know the people around us. Often we take their presence for granted, yet 'friends' we call them. I remembered a time when I went through great lengths to make sure I maintain my bond with the people that I know, but much like the over-rated issue of the Malaysia-Singapore crooked bridge, such things just don't just work one way. Few years down the road and my so called closest friend still think don't know for sure what I do for a living (he just assumes I am in IT). But that's not too bad, after all, at least it will take within a week for my gay friends to find out if I kicked the bucket. The others? I will consider it fortunate if they know about it within a year.