The other day I was at a super bowl party when one of my friends brought up this random thought about how sad she’d be if one of her friends in Chicago suddenly passed away. This notion prompted a handful of thoughts.

1) What if that friend is me?
2) If I am due to hang it up relatively soon, who would even show up to my funeral?
3) What would my funeral actually be like?
4) If given the opportunity, would I even wanna see it?
5) Should I be concerned about the well being of everyone at this party?

For the rest of the super bowl party, I couldn’t shake these thoughts. Who would plan it? Where would it be held? Do enough people know that my dying wish (in terms of wardrobe) is to be wearing this commemorative Megaman Battle Network 3 T-shirt?

Will there be snacks afterwards that commemorate my life? Cookies with my face on it? A cake in the shape of Oahu, the island I grew up on? Would anyone have the audacity to ask for a corner slice of said cake? Would people have the stomach to engage in tasty treats after being in the same room as my corpse for an hour and a half?

Would how I die, inform the mood of the funeral? For instance, if I died from a mosquito bite, would every itch on people’s bodies turn them into a major hypochondriac? If a died in an airplane crash, would my enemies, who show up to the service, mutter inappropriate jokes to their friend like, “Should’ve had a red bull. Gives you wings.”

If I died in a car accident, would acquaintances shy away from asking each other how long the drive was out of respect for my mother, who shutters anytime someone utters a word that rhymes with 'tire'?

If my funeral is the last thing I see on Earth, I'll wander the underworld (or wherever I end up) in an eternally bad mood.

This is because I generally think I’m way more important in people’s lives than I actually am. I assume most people are fond of my personality, and I assume the closest people in my life would be heartbroken if they lost me. I think there’d be a good 10-15 people off the top of my head who would be bawling at my funeral. I picture my best friend from back home, overcoming his fear of public speaking and delivering a speech so powerful, you would’ve sworn he was Lincoln at the Gettysburg address.

I imagine everyone else delivering long winded speeches about times I’ve showed extreme compassion and incredible acts of kindness. I see the entire crowd being moved to tears as they nod solemnly in agreement at how good hearted of a person I was. The issue with this line of thinking is that anything short of these expectations would absolutely destroy me.

If the alleged VIP’s of my life don’t nail their speeches, I’ll be livid. If I’m sure they’re gonna bring up story X about the two of us, but they tell story Y, I’ll be disappointed because I thought story X was more meaningful to our friendship. By watching the funeral and listening to the speeches, I’ll have annihilated every illusion I’ve been holding onto all these years. I’ll find out I’m not nearly as smart, witty, clever, insightful or impactful as I thought I was.

The individuals who I thought would give the best anecdotes, will turn out to be quite underwhelming, and someone I overlooked will end up bringing the crowd to their feet. Ultimately prompting me to second guess whether I should've spent more time with this person. All the preconceptions about my life and the relationships I had with these people will be shattered.

After lingering on this for a while I’ve realized the answer to whether or not I'd want to watch my own funeral is a resounding NO. The only thing more important than the past is my memory of it. I prefer to leave the casino thinking I hit the lotto. These aren't alternative facts. This is something much more critical. This is an alternative realm of thinking. If ignorance isn’t bliss, it sure comes awfully close.