I stand outside a door, next to a sign that reads

“Come celebrate the life of Melissa”.

Still confused as to how I got here,

I open the door and enter into the crowded room.

It is filled with friends and family

As I move amongst them,

I am quite surprised by how many people have come.

Some people I have not seen in some time.

People I had always meant to give a call

But never quite had the time to.

Yet, here they are,

Celebrating me.

I glance around the room

And spot some familiar faces

Mike, my best friend from the neighborhood,

his blonde hair now tinted with touches of gray.

Nicole, the girly-girl who became a close friend but,

who I did not like the first time I had met her.

Mrs. Waltz, my favorite teacher ever.

She made fourth grade so much fun and

taught me things I still remember today.

My cousins, Elizabeth and Isabella, who now live in Texas,

so much older and taller than the last time I had seen them.

My old college roommate, Tara,

with what looks like her husband and children.

I suddenly find myself wondering why we lost touch?

That quiet kid I always ate lunch with all through middle school,

What was his name again?

My old boss from the burger joint where I had worked summers during high school.

My high school basketball coaches,

one who made me hate the game and one who made me love the game.

They both look older and have put on a little weight but I can still tell it is them.

Ms. Kuz, one of my favorite high school teachers,

who inspired me with her passion for teaching and love for art.

Aunt Clare and Uncle John, who came over every Sunday when I was younger.

I remember well the heated Monopoly games we used to play at the kitchen table.

I spot my parents, just ahead, still holding hands after all these years,

I whisper hello in my mom’s ear but there is no response.

She must not have heard me.

She and my father continue to talk to each other,

Not paying any attention to me standing beside them.

They seem upset

Why are they upset?

Something I did?

I try again to talk to them, and

Again, I am ignored.

I do not understand.

I approach Aunt Clare and Uncle John,

But they walk by me as if I am not even there.

I must be getting pranked.

Why else would people act as if I am not here

After all this affair is for me.

Then I see it, out of the corner of my eye,

Toward the front of the room,

A casket with me lying inside.