When I Die I won't be able to speak anymore. I'd like to get some things said now, while I can. I want a large gathering of people who knew or cared about me, in one place. You won’t be able to see me, but I'd like you all to be together, to see each other. Along with the sadness of loss, I'd like you to feel the closeness, that once was. I'd like you to know that I love all the people who've touched my life. I'd like you to see in each other that one person doesn't end where another begins. I'd like you to know that we are all connected together, circles within circles. One person on one solitary path, joined together the group you see around you. Imagine how many more people are connected, through feeling, to the many of you. It will be a time of separation, of loosening all earthly bonds, and of memories. You will no longer hear me, and some things will be left unsaid, and unfinished. I want you all to remember me, and to laugh at the crazy things that I did. I want you to remind each other of some of the principles I lived by. As long as I am still thought about, I won't really be gone, won't really have left you. I don't remember being born, and probably won't be aware of death, if it exists. You might remember my death, and lose touch with my life, as it was. Try not to view these two: death and life, as being facts that are separate. I will try to remember all of you, as you are now, wherever I go. Copyright Doug Young May 29, 1994 (the third anniversary)