#3

So, I have to be honest. The idea behind this list wasn’t entirely original.
Well, not at all original. It was the idea of a dear friend of mine, and I just kind of stole it.
Oops? I think not.
She’s okay with it. I promise.



I remember lying on the floor of my grandparents’ house in my Bugs Bunny footed Pajamas one Christmas when I was a kid, cradling my box of Stove Top Stuffing (It was on my Christmas list. I was an odd child.). My fingers uncurling the ribbons attached to the shredded red and gold wrapping paper, I began to cry.
At nearly seven years old, I was having a midlife crisis. The idea of growing up and dying had penetrated my mind, and I was a wreck. I was supposed to be enjoying my bridal Barbie and trying on JC Penney’s sweater sets from Memaw, not having a fun sized panic attack on the carpet.
That was the first encounter I had with the fear of death, though it certainly wasn’t the last. It wasn’t until I moved in with longtime friend Aja, that I was able to deal with my semi-irrational fear of death.
Aja had a list, a wonderfully morbid list that I envied; the Funeral List. To Aja, death wasn’t something to panic about. Death, like most other things, was attributed with the same sentiments: shit happens and more than likely, it’s out of your control, so why not make something that celebrates your life instead of mourning it when it’s over.
That year I started a funeral list for myself. It made the concept of death easier for me to grasp.
The rules were simple: Pick one song that meant something to you for every year you’re alive. The songs leading up to the year you start the list need not be in any particular order but the ones that follow need to be chronological.
And thus it began.

[more to come!]