There is always a fair bit of commotion focused on one's birth. From then on the young life demands attention, people begin to attach themselves to this living entity and before long the essence of the original design is lost from sight within a waving clump of weed comprising  individual impressions of what might lay at the centre.

Death is always present and when it threatens the weed-clump pulls tighter with a multitude of egos each

claiming a right to say their final farewells.

I have no need to suffer their instances at the moment of my passing when all I want is to be with my Cally and then left alone - ME - no one else. An empty vessel becoming re-absorbed  into the Being of Humanityg of Humanity