When I'm Dead

Simply writing for publication isn't enough anymore. The many decisions that go along with this process require knowledge of where-to's, when-to's and how-to's that one person alone can't locate and retain in memory. I'm starting to think it takes an Internet village of Webinars, web sites and blogs for writers, and social sites, along with a local group of writers who sponsor speakers, and one or more friends, whom you ideally perceive to be better writers than you, to meet with regularly for specific one-on-one feedback.

My friend Terry and I live in different towns, a 45-minute drive apart, but ever since she attended a life writers' workshop I facilitated in the spring, we have been getting together every week for lunch and information-sharing. We're both writing books. With an M.A. degree in Creative Writing and the award-winning talent to go with it, Terry is the writing partner I've been looking for. So far, we've attended a seminar together, and we're signed up for another one.

Terry suggested we get together once a week to read our writings aloud to each other, and today was the first day of our new plan. I read my work to her, and then she read it back to me. We discussed some places where I could make changes, and I heard the rightness of those changes. 

At Terry's recommendation, I'm posting one of the pieces I read to her today. (The other one, the first story for my Life with a Buckskinner book, needs polishing before it's ready for public exposure!) Jane Cooper's famous poem "Rent" is the inspiration for the tone of this piece. What would you write on this subject? 

When I'm Dead
by Renelle West

When I'm dead, I'll be gone,

completely and forever.

I won't hover over my corpse, or over the crematory

or sad friends.

I won't say a good word to God for you, 

or to Jesus, or to any prophet or angel you believe in.

I won't watch when you self-pleasure

or visit you in your dreams

or appear at the foot of your bed.

I'll leave you behind with your memories,

fantasies, mind's tricks.

All that will be left of me: my bones lying in ashes.

When I'm dead, don't feel you have to honor me--

I likely don't deserve it;

I won't be there to hear it.

You don't have to talk about my death in euphemisms.

I didn't transition, cross over, or pass away;

God didn't call me home;

I'm not with angels.

I fucking, flat-out died!

If you criticized me in life,

proclaim my faults aloud when I'm gone.

If you rolled your eyes when I spoke live words,

roll them when you remember me.

If my death reminds you of yours,

then grieve the loss of your life in your tears

before your curtain falls,

because it will.

When I'm dead,

I won't be back in any form.

No thinking or faith or belief will bring me to you.

No one living will be able to contact me in another realm.

Remember me in your truth,

But if you tell yourself lies, they will hurt only you;

I won't know.

Whatever I gave you along my life's journey
will stay with you; it's yours to keep.

I won't exist anywhere to understand you, forgive you,

or know what you were thinking

when you interacted with me.

I couldn't read your mind in life;

I won't exist to read it when I'm dead.

If we were torn apart, we should have mended our friendship

when I lived.

It will be too late when I'm gone.

My forgiveness of you after I've died is not necessary for your

continued well-being.

I won't be somewhere else feeling angry or bitter;

I won't condemn you or bury you in karma.

When I'm dead,

know that when I lived, I was conscious of and grateful for

the many gifts you gave me.

Your words and actions--trusting, generous, harsh, indifferent, loving, condemning, or compassionate--

molded my thoughts, attitudes and behavior.

I hope my relationship with you made me a better person in life, 

but that will be for you to judge, not me.

When I die, the covers of my life's book will close.

My last breath will be my last event.

This is my only life.

When I'm dead, I hope I leave behind something good in your heart,

because there won't be any more somethings.

I leave to you your triumphs and shortcomings,

your joys and sorrows and your journey forward.

They were always, only yours; never mine.

When I'm dead, I'll be gone,

Completely and forever.