In My Epitaph

January 7, 2011
I was fifteen years old when I passed away. In my day, we woulda called that a “good, long life o livin’.” But, if people had known the truth ‘bout why I died and how I dunnit then no’un would say my life was fine.

Considerably, I was rather rich and grannit, I had many prospects for future husbands and many acquaintances to keep me company on long, lonely days. There were many of those in my lifetime. Each one pushed me farther and farther to the edge. I had too many people and not enough time to spend with them. I didn’t really like any of ‘em. Honestly, I just wanted to be alone in my room and enjoy my solitude. I always had what I didn’t want. Maybe for that, I was selfish. I was wrong? I dunno. I dun’t have time to think about it anymore. My time has passed. I’m goin’ on to better things in better places with better people. Imma be free. Imma fly.


Momma, I want you to know that I love you. And I’m sorry for disappointin’ you, bein’ wrong, and never focusin’ on my studies in school. I didn’t mean to be a failure. I didn’t mean to make you miserable. All I wanted to do was be happy. But I couldn’t even do that right. I couldn’t bring peace and pleasure to those I’ve loved and that, thass enuff reason for me to wanna pass on. N Daddy, I’m sorry for takin’ your torch and burnin’ down the house. That’s why I left this letter in the barn… if the house burns this note, I won’t be pleased. But at least I tried to let you know well ahead of time.


I wrote my epitaph when I was fifteen years old. I wrote it on scratchy paper we used in school and staked it to my headboard. When my parents came home to find my grave in my bed, my momma cried. My daddy held ‘er tight. And me? I just laid there an’ smiled. Cuz I knew that wherever I was goin’, I wasn’t gonna hurt anyone ever again.





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