When there is a death in the family, and all has been prepared for their departure, the deceased is more alive than they ever were when alive; that there even exists such a ritual sendoff (be it by way of funeral, cremation, alkaline hydrolysis–the list goes on) lends credence to a notion of mine–that, in death, one is more alive than ever before. This obviously includes one’s actual time spent living; when one needs to fulfill so many prerequisites and check-boxes to enjoy a fulfilling life, it would be difficult to argue that the dead, who enjoy the luxury of having those who succeed them fill in those prerequisites and check-boxes they once were so preoccupied by in their stead, are not infinitely more alive. Captain Crunch is one such man–in his death, life–in his life, life.
It seems to me, having stepped away from my computer for some water, that now, upon a rereading, I am making little to no sense. Still, I make this post in the hopes that it will be something to turn back to later, when inspiration strikes once again.