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Friday Regrets.

Friday again, the weeks seem to fly by. I am not complaining it is just something that ells me that I will soon be one of those numbers in a ledger. A ledger written in large letters Cemetery Register Will anyone ever look in this book or ledger? Someone looking to see which of the burial plots was given to my lifeless, useless body. I do not think so. You see after me there will be no one. Those members of my once large family have dwindled away over the passing years. Perhaps some odd cousin in Australia might be nosey wondering where we all are buried.

I am now on another Friday series of thinking. Why do we have to mark where our dead bodies are buried? Even the most wonderful stone cannot bring anyone back, so why spend huge amounts of money on burials in the first place? The money would be better shared among those still alive. Not that I myself want any of my dead relatives money, as far as I know most of them died penniless.

I hear the siren from an ambulance that has entered our street. My thoughts turn once again to death. Who is it this time, will he or she be saved by the Doctors in the local Hospital? Or will I have to attend another funeral service for someone that I might have seen a few times but do not really know. It is a custom for all of the neighbours to attend a funeral, to show one’s respect for the dead. When they were alive practically every one in the street avoided them, they were considered to be argumentive, but a death wipes the slates clean. Have we always been hypocrites or is this something new? Invented by a few bigoted idiots that must run other people’s lives?

Move to somewhere else, no way it would be the same or even worse or at least that is the feeling I have about moving house. In any case one would have to meet up with new neighbours and who knows they could be worse than my neighbours are at the present. One I feel I must mention he nods if one passes him on the street but that is all he will never stop to speak. He has no words to waste, either that or he is deaf and dumb as if in the sense that he cannot speak not that he is mentally not all there for that is what most people think when they hear that someone is deaf and dumb.

 I must mention that since I moved into this house all of those years ago, so many have left not to go away but to visit permanently the Cemetery they have so to say found a new home. Now these people need no speaking partners and are I think quite happy to be on their own. As I say I will soon be joining them. A long permanent sleep among those that went on before me, to pave the way so to say. Bern