I am old enough to think about my funeral arrangements. Of course, everyone at any age is old enough for that, but the popular misconception still exists that only old people die. (I did not delude my three-year-old son from thinking that and instead told him the truth, as gently as possible and adding that actually most people die when they are old, but he still hasn't forgiven me 33 years later. Oh well.)
Anyway, I don't want to be buried in the ground, that seems really bizarre to me. I am not a tree or a bush or a plant of any kind. Worse than the burial is a service of some sort where people who knew me gather to allegedly mourn my death, while eating lots of yummy catered food and drinking freely from an open bar. (My husband is very generous and I'm assuming I'll go first since he is younger.)
The problem is that so few people who "know" me are still alive, so they won't be in attendance, and those who come will likely do so only for the free food. Anyone who truly cared for me would be AWOL, home in bed crying their eyes out. (I hope.)
This is a maudlin topic but it came up because my husband is about to fly to a distant city to attend the funeral of a former co-worker I never heard him speak of. He says he's going for "the children," as if the bigger the number of funeral attendees the better they will all feel about their dead daddy. I say he's going for the party where he will see many of his colleagues who are still alive. What fun!
Then there's the speechifying about what a great person the deceased was, how their smile lit up the room, how much they loved life, they lived life to the fullest, and they were taken too young no matter how old there were.
What I would like is for a couple of angels to show up and transport me to the Heavenly Father. Short of that cremation will do; it's clean and neat and a fitting nod to all those Jews incinerated in Europe. Whatever, just don't let them put me in the ground, Brian! (He knows who he is.)
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