We are all ghosts drifting in the real world of oblivion.
Without bodies.
Only memories that will be scattered by the wind while our photographs will be corroded by the passage of time. No one will remember us at some point in the future; our actions, joys, sorrows, and works will be entirely decomposed at some point in the history of the universe. One day planet Earth will simply be consumed by the Sun, and we will be nothing more than space dust. Nothing more. Nothing less.
No one will remember me wandering through this infinite space of musings in my final moments. I will be as useless as a tick to human history. My mother will still remember me, my nieces and nephews, and my friends, but after they are gone, what will remain about me? My grandparents and friends who have already passed away are ghosts haunting my name, hoping that in the end, I still remember them, that in the end, they still mattered, even if it's minimal.
I can hear my grandfather shouting:
"Remember me" - the desperation in his voice - "I was important!"
We carry several ghosts on our shoulders; life is full of burials, one after another. We become stronger with each one of them. The only thing I can't face with much naturalness anymore is the burial of a child. Children should never die.
I wonder now what my burial will be like, since they won't have a body to bury. There will probably be a ceremony in my honor.
Who will be there? - I wish Silvana would come and that my brother wouldn't show up.
Will there be many people? - I think I would like there to be a lot of people, to remember the person I was. People could tell others about moments they spent with me, laugh and cry. And I would be there being carried on the shoulders of everyone because now I would be a ghost.
It must be very sad to have a burial with few people.
I think of my mother and father; they will be devastated, complaining about the job I chose, the risks I took, they will try to blame someone other than me. I hope they have the support they need to get through it all. I wish it were my idiot brother in my place. I wish to live.
I hope to become a ghost, like in movies or comic books, I will be able to see everyone and no one will be able to see me. I will enter the women's bathrooms and fulfill teenagers' dreams. I will listen to private conversations about me. I will find out that people I trusted spoke ill of me behind my back and I will knock over furniture to scare them. I will be like a fly in their rooms.
But I don't believe in that kind of thing; I think about these juvenile ideas just to avoid thinking about death as it really is. Ghosts exist, but it's not a fun thing.
I close my eyes and I still see my grandfather there, shouting, begging me not to forget him.

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Drifting in the Space of Ramblings
Science FictionAn astronaut lost in space. Dying. Drifting. What will be the last things to pass through his mind before death?