The Love of My Afterlife

by Kirsty Greenwood

Here lies Delphie Denise Bookham. She died just as she lived: alone, perplexed, wearing something a bit shit.

It’s this paint shade called Dehydrated Goose, discontinued in ninety-two.

I must know what this color looks like

The problem with so many people you encounter in life is that they’re being the version of themselves they think they should be rather than the person they actually are.

“Crying means you’re feeling,” Jan muses. “That you’re living. That you’re loving.”

Like my beloved Stephen Sondheim wrote—Somebody hold me too close, somebody hurt me too deep. That’s what being alive is.”

being alive is about experiencing the full gamut of emotions. If you’re not feeling pushed and pulled and scared and delighted instead of just safe—then you’re not doing it right.

A life, witnessed. A life, lived. There’s so much to see, so much to do, so much to feel.