by a contributor
Maybe I’ve watched Beetlejuice one too many times in the past month, but lately, I’ve been preoccupied with things and their lingering meanings. What will my loved ones think of my material belongings when they have to pack them up and send them to Goodwill? Bear with me: it’s not all tragedy and tears.
- Keys. No one will know what they go to, or what they were for. Their very presence will insinuate that portions of my life will remain closed off from them forever… At least until they get the notice for the late fees: P.O. Box 5555555 fee overdue. Please pay at your earliest convenience.
- Beauty supplies. How unnerving will it be to pack up all the products that claim to stop time, perhaps even repair the damage it causes? Strange hands will unearth a stockpile of anti-aging creams and leave-in conditioners and petal pink razors, oh my!
- Facebook. I think I had better write down my password so someone can delete my page when I expire. There’s nothing creepier than someone writing on your wall after you’re dead. I miss you…I can’t wait to join you in Heaven…Happy Birthday! This is a self-serving activity at best, and most likely would not be duly noted from the Afterlife.
- My cat. She is evil, and thus she will outlive me. She demands many cans of Fancy Feast.
- Pictures. A lingering reminder of a poignant moment shared by two people creates a special kind of pain. This is especially true when the loved one moves on and my ghost angrily hurls the picture across the room, pegging him in the back of the head with it.