‘Wake up… Louis? Louis!’
It’s 3 o’clock in the morning. I’m fast asleep in my bed. The ambulance has just arrived to pick up a body. She passed away late afternoon. I have to go with the ambulance to help carry the body. I hate it when he comes so late …
I’m only nine years old. My mother is the only undertaker in town. We do not have cooling facilities, so every time someone dies the body has to be transported to the nearest facility, which is 80 miles away. There’s no-one else to help, especially at night. I don’t mind, really. It’s just annoying to be woken up in the middle of the night.
I’ve seen more dead bodies before I turned 10 than most people see in a lifetime.
The photo is me in front of our home. On my right, as I’m sitting there, is the lounge where family and friends came to pay their last respects.
On the day of the funeral the hearse returns the body. The coffin is opened in our lounge. Then it’s off to church for a memorial service.
There are some ‘regulars’ that come to every funeral. I always watch through the dining room window. They normally cry the most. I often wondered whether they even knew the deceased. Maybe they are addicted to being sad. Who knows.
When everyone left for church I always sneak into the lounge to have a look before they take the coffin away.
The cemetery (or graveyard, as we used to call it) was our favourite place to play. It is only a few hundred meters from my home. After the church service the hearse passes in front of the house on it’s way to the cemetery. We were taught to show respect and stop whatever we do and just stand still. We always sat on the boundary wall and counted the cars coming past in slow procession behind the hearse. Sometimes there were only a few cars. When someone important or popular died, the string of cars just kept on coming. We loved to guess what ‘make of car’ was driving past, or which town the car came from.
I’m not psychic or anything, despite my mother whispering to her close friends that I was born with a caul (‘met die helm gebore’ as she used to say). She also used to tell people that I became very restless the day before someone dies. I don’t recall this happening though.
Somehow, though, I felt a deep connection to the dead. Every life is a story. Some long, some short, some boring, some exciting. Kids have wonderful imaginations, you know, and I used mine to full effect by creating wonderful stories around every life.
As a result of all this I was always fascinated with life. Over time I became aware of three powerful ideas that ran contrary to the general beliefs. Till today I don’t fully understand al this, but deep down I know this to be right. The three ideas are:
- There is no Time.
- There is no Death.
- There is no Truth.
These are profound statements, and I’ll explain each one in the next three posts. Maybe I’ll do it on video. What do you think? Comment below.
(You may wonder what all this has to do with Financial Freedom … everything! Just hang in there :)
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