By: Amy Ball
I know the song I want blasted at my funeral: The Party by Regina Spekter. I want everyone to make the trumpet sounds at the end in a raucous chorus—maybe with kazoos and confetti poppers too. I told this to my mom. She didn’t think it was morbid. We just played it in the living room and danced, while I belted out the lyrics: You leave such a mess, but you’re so fun!
That got an eye roll.
“Thanks for dancing at my funeral, Mom.”
“Just this once, girl.” She moonwalks to the kitchen, waggling her finger at me.
Love this one
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