One of the tell tale signs that our lives are indeed fiction can be witnessed at a funeral. Once the deceased is buried stories start to come out. Everyone that feels they should, gets up and tells the rest of the congregation a meaningful story that connects the deceased to themselves. The stories are created by the person telling them and are subjective to that person's view of the events as well as how much they liked the person that passed away. Usually, since the person is attending the funeral, they loved, or at least liked the person, most of the stories will be heartfelt, humorous, and or meaningful. They wish to share the stories that they have created because they don't want the deceased to be forgotten. Attending some of my family member funerals has given me the opportunity to hear stories about my family that I had never heard before. It gives me completely different perspective on those people, and it's hard to let them know I appreciate their stories because they are gone. I will probably never hear the stories that were told at my grandmother's and great-grandmother's funerals again; I don't need to, I know the stories of them and those stories make them who they are to me.
In the Four Quartets I found a passage that might relate to the theme of Life as Fiction.
"To communicate with Mars, converse with spirits, to report the behavior of the sea monster, describe the horoscope, haruspicate or scry, observe disease in signatures, evoke biography from the wrinkles of the palm and tragedy from the fingers..." Dry Salvages p.43
haruspicate - When one rips out the guts, and in particular the intestines, of dead animals and tells the future by looking at them.
Scry - to look into a crystal ball
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