Dear people that attend my funeral,
Whenever you go to my loved ones at my funeral I never want you to say "the flowers were lovely."
Listen: I want my funeral to reflect my life, a place that is so confusing and absurd and ridiculous that there is no time for grief. I want the last memory to be had of me to be something that battles the immeasurable loss you'll surely have. So please, at my funeral go nuts. If you think something is hilarious, laugh, laugh your fucking heart out. If you suddenly get the urge to sing a little ditty, make a chain of paper hearts, flip a table, or get knee crawling drunk: do so. Do it with gusto. Make sure that everyone knows you still can feel something else, that you are not bound to your grief, and that quiet sobriety just will not fucking do. This will be the second most important thing to ever happen to my monkey meat, make it fucking count.
Love, Kendra.
