“There is a little song I wrote
I hope you learn it note for note
Like good little children
Don’t worry, be happy
Listen to what I say
In your life expect some trouble
But when you worry you make it double
Don’t worry, be happy…”
-Bobby McFerrin

Yesterday, the father of a friend of mine passed away unexpectedly of a major heart attack. My friend’s mom died after a long battle with cancer this fall. He’s lost both of his parents in less than a year and it scares the shit out of me. I said to my husband tonight, “I can’t believe we’re getting old enough that our friends’ parents are dying and getting ill, and all of that.” My husband replied that it’s not uncommon for a partner to pass away not long after their spouse does. My husband thinks that if his dad dies first, his mother surely won’t be too far behind – she won’t know how to live without him.

I have long joked that at my funeral, I want someone to play “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” (it was a toss up – it was either that or “Ding Dong The Witch Is Dead”). While I sometimes have that horrible vision of myself dying and no one giving a shit, I think what is worse is if I die and everyone mourns and mopes and falls apart. God, I just don’t want that.

I hate thinking about that stuff – it’s almost a weird little quirk of mine. It’s not a superstition exactly, but even so, thinking about dying freaks me out. It makes me think of my kids and how they would be. It makes me think of the fact that my husband and I can’t agree on a guardian for our children should anything happen to the both of us (I put the kibosh on our original selection, as the more time I spend with them, the more they annoy the hell out of me, and if my daughters grow up to be sissy whiny crybabies, I’ll be looking down on them from wherever I am muttering, “What the fuck? What happened to your spunk, kiddo?!”). Reminds me that I can’t decide which creeps me out less – burial or cremation. Both freak me the hell out – I rot or I burn? I know what you’re gonna tell me, if I’m dead I won’t feel either, and won’t know it – that whole body vs. spirit stuff… But, until someone who’s been there and done that comes back to tell me what’s-what, I am still going to be freaked out about it.

It’s probably silly to worry about death, and to freak out about something happening to me, my loved ones. Seeing a friend go through this twice in such a short span makes me realize that there are no guarantees. All we have for sure is the moment we are living in. It’s kind of a slap in the face.