Editor's Note: Shea Serrano is an award-winning music writer and goofball whose recent exploits include Bun B's Rapper Coloring and Activity Book. In his new column, he writes about his life and times.
Flickr/Javier Lopez Zavala
Earlier this week, I went to the funeral of a person that I cared about. While I am of course happy that he will get to spend the rest of eternity in Heaven with the woman that he loved (who was there waiting for him), I am sad for myself and for my family because he is someone we all cared about deeply. This is not a remembrance post, though. My wife, this particular man's granddaughter, wrote one far better than I could ever hope to do. This, my true best friends, is a blueprint.
Here's what I know, and you know, and everyone knows: I'm going to die, you're going to die, we're all going to die. I can only hope that it happens to me while I'm doing something cool like climbing a mountain or participating in a Royal Rumble. More likely is that it happens while I'm making a joke about boners on Twitter.
