Attending My Own Eulogy
On the day of my funeral, it’s sunny and warm, exactly as I’d hoped.
The pavement sparkles with possibility. It’s the final chapter of my book, but I can’t shake the suspicion of a new one beginning.
Before me is an archway adorned in balloons, photographs taped to the perimeters. I squint to make sense of the pictures. There’s one of me smiling on a colorful street in Colombia, my hair falling…