“Death is only the beginning.”

This line had been spoken to Jack, once. He thought it to be quite the ponderous question, as death is more appropriately the ending. He knew that it was mentioning a supposed “afterlife”, but he hadn’t thought that the idea was supported enough in pure evidence.
Jack was a man of about six feet, with short black hair atop his head and a short-haired beard, which seemed to prefer taking residence on his neck. He was only twenty-one years old, but the wonders of death had come to him upon the death of his uncle, just two weeks prior. Today was the day of his Uncle Pete’s funeral, and he planned to attend. He really loved his Uncle Pete, as they were very much alike. They both had had the same humorous personality, loving to make people smile, especially the more difficult, depressing crowd. Ironically, Jack also looked just like his uncle had, when he was Jack’s age, and looked very different from his parents for some reason that nobody seemed to know.
“Hey, Freeloader, you ready to go?”
Ever since Jack turned eighteen, his father had been near-obsessively consistent with calling his son by that nickname. He was just kidding, or it at least seemed that way. Jack was going to college. College takes time. It also takes money, and lots of it at that. There was no possible way that Jack could have paid for an apartment, let alone a house.
“Yeah, just give me a minute”, Jack replied from the other side of the door to his room.
He had to swiftly finish accidentally choking himself with his tie, and… perfect. After nearly strangling himself to death for the most eternal two minutes of his life, Jack managed to successfully put on his tie.
“Your time’s up!” Jack’s father called from the other side of his door.
He opened the door promptly, ready to drag Jack out to the car if he had to. Jack was going to make them late, and he had listened to his wife’s complaints about being late enough times that if they were typed up in size twelve font, he could probably fill the bed of  a truck.
Luckily for Jack, he was ready to go, and didn’t require a good dragging… this time. He made haste to the van, alongside his father, with his mother already waiting for them in the car, making a bodily gesture toward the invisible watch on her wrist.
One could swear their van flew that day; Jack’s father sat in the passenger seat, probably hoping that his wife wasn’t going to crash into a bus or massacre some children with the front of the van. Jack sat in the back, wishing he had had some way of getting someone into the driver’s seat who wouldn’t attempt achieving lightspeed. Upon their arrival at the church, Jack and his father nearly rolled out of the van, as they would do nearly anything to get out of that maniac-driven mechanical deathtrap. They rushed up the stairs to the church, lacking any sort of acknowledgement for the handlebars. They burst through the doors, making the initial silence of the inside of the church all the more apparent.
Jack and his father felt a tad embarrassed, but their embarrassment was greeted by Jack’s mother whispering, “Say what you will, but we made it on time” in their ears. It was true, as the church’s clocks had just hit five o’ clock.
“Hey, you guys made it!” Zach chimed. Zach was one of Jack’s father’s brothers, and thus a brother of Uncle Pete’s. He loved teasing Jack’s mother, especially when it came to being on time, because it ripped right under her skin. They may have been on time, but that only meant that he would have to refer them to previous failures.
“You made it on time even! That’s not normal. What happened? Did you finally tell the Dead Man here to get ready within a week’s notice?”
Dead Man was apparently a new nickname for Jack, as he had black hair and was awfully quiet and somber-looking whenever Zach saw him. That was because he only ever saw Jack and his parents at family events such as funerals and family reunions, and all of those were obviously events that Jack loved with all of his heart and soul, because he got to see Uncle Zach.
Jack’s mother merely shoved Zach out of their way, partially out of haste, and partially out of hatred. Jack and his father followed, with revitalized anger and hatred for Zach being on display via their faces.
They sat down at their seats, in the front row. Jack couldn’t really focus as to what anyone who spoke was saying. His head was groggy, his thoughts were tangled. It seemed that the further along he went streamlining his thoughts, the more tangled they got. He suddenly noticed that he couldn’t remember what had happened the day before. It had been a Friday, and he was a twenty-one-year-old in college, so anything could’ve happened the previous night, but he shouldn’t have to guess, it was his life.
Jack’s thoughts got interrupted by the sudden absence of speech as the eulogist had finished speaking. Everyone started coming up toward the body, one or two at a time, to say their final goodbyes. After the first few people, Jack’s parents went up to say their goodbyes, but Jack waited. A line was formulating, and he’d rather wait out the line’s existence than actually wait in the line.
Finally, Jack walked up to see his Uncle Pete one last time. As he saw the interior of the casket, he was reminded of how similar his uncle looked to himself. In fact, his uncle didn’t even look a day older than himself, but, his uncle hadn’t looked that way in years. Jack quickly turned to the glass windows and saw his reflection. Sure enough, they looked the same.
Jack’s brain also decided to remind him that not only did him and his uncle look alike, but they also possessed the same name. Jack Pete Stuart. The similarities weren’t just coincidence, but nor were they planned, right? His head boggled as the church seemed to rotate and blur, to grow silent then grow loud. Jack felt exceptionally dizzy until he tripped backwards and fell into the casket, which was now empty. The casket then closed, with him inside. Suddenly, everything hit him: he didn’t remember yesterday because he wasn’t alive yesterday. He hadn’t been alive for two weeks. The last thing he remembered flashed up in his brain; He was the victim of a car crash. A dead victim. His subconscious or whatever state of mind he still possessed must’ve drawn up the funeral in an attempt to deny death even after death. There was no other Uncle Pete who was exactly like himself; He was Uncle Pete.