I remember the night my cousin and I planned our funerals. We were teenagers. I was fourteen and she was sixteen. Sitting up late one night, we fantasized about what it would be like when we died; all the people who would show up, who would cry, who would share memories and talk about how much they loved us. Death did not seem like a bad thing to us. Because for us, dying meant that we would finally be noticed; people... Read more













