Grave Goods – Matthew Holness.
Tools of the Trade
I imagine people won’t be writing much in the afterlife, assuming it’s either as good or bad as people say. So instead I’ll plump for decent walking shoes. If the afterlife is a case of sitting around in eternal bliss, I can always take them off for even more comfort. But if it’s instead a terrifying hellish realm of physical and spiritual torment, I will need a) the ability to run and potentially scale mountainous regions and b) protection from blisters.
Food for the Journey
I would take my thermos flask filled with filter coffee. Mine is a good thermos and genuinely retains heat for eight hours or more, and that’s unusual for a flask, despite what they all claim. The problem will come when that eight to ten-hour window has passed and I’m facing the rest of eternity without fresh coffee. But hopefully that initial burst of caffeine inspiration will direct me to some nearby refill options. Failing this, I can always use my thermos as a defensive weapon.
Memento Vivere
No surprises here. A photo of my family. I may need it as visual proof in case the spirits of older relatives are out looking to guide me toward the distant ethereal light. But if that’s the case, I’ll probably need an older family photo in order for me to recognise them. Assuming that the afterlife will be better organised than here, I’ll trust there is a workable system in place and therefore take my original for comfort. Because my biggest question, should there be an afterlife, is how old do we all look to each other if and when we meet after death? Therefore, a snapshot of my happiest time here is probably wise, in case we all end up stiff and glowing like old Jedis.
Ex Libris
My Monty Python books, and yes, I’m taking all of them. They still make me laugh out loud and never fail to fortify me against the shitness and absurdity of the world. Python forever defies pretension, arrogance, oppression, and, not least, the cold hand of approaching death. And given that the afterlife might well be even more horrific than this one, I’ll need good gallows humour at the very least.
Lucky Deposition
The steering wheel from my first car, a humble Ford Fiesta. We racked up an impressive 175,000 miles before our road together finally ran out. That car steered me through good times and bad and there have been few greater pleasures in life than driving the UK’s motorways ensconced in its unassuming, dashlit interior. I always meant to keep the steering wheel and have it buried with me, but was afraid to prise it free in case the airbag went off and brained me. But I hope that in the afterlife, my steering wheel awaits. I’ll probably have to hang it around my neck, though. On second thoughts, assuming that supernatural manifestations are possible, the entire car might be a better option.
A Message From Beyond the Grave
You will be forgotten, so rein it in.