I want to be cremated.
This has been my wish since my early adult years, for several reasons. First, I've never been one to stay in one spot. Anyone who knows anything about me can verify knows that. When people ask where I'm at nowadays, I usually respond with a variation of "loosely based in Tucson." Because, when I'm feeling well, I travel as much as I possibly can. Dead or alive, I don't want to stay put. Second, I have a travel bucket list, and I'm hoping my friends will complete my travel list with my ashes. I haven't been to Africa or Asia, and maybe they can use my death as a reason to see those two continents. I also haven't been to Antarctica, but it's too expensive to go see some penguins, a few other extremophiles, and snow. |
Third, I don't want anyone to cry at my grave. I've seen people mourning at graves and I don't want that. AT
ALL. Especially my mom. She's shed enough tears.
Hopefully, I'll have done enough in my life to qualify for my version of heaven–one with mango trees and my hunka-hunka burning love. I know it's there. And I hope people realize I'm there, laughing and building rainbows and haunting and practical joking my living friends. Laughter through tears, because crying causes headaches, and it's uglier, messier, and snottier than laughing. That's not my style. The only reason I would change my mind would be if that aforementioned hunka shows up. I don't want to be buried next to anyone else. That would be the only person I would want to be settled next to, the reason I would sit still and not travel. I'd stop traveling and settle down now if the right man showed up and changed my last name. The deceased in my family have all been married and buried or cremated and they're all over the place, and buried next to their spouses–with the exception of an older brother who is buried on top of grandparents in Kauai. Everyone else in my family are with their spouses. And since mine hasn't shown up, yep, cremate me, take me to Africa and Asia. Divvy me up and let's go. A couple of last adventures with good friends. That's my planned exit. Or fireworks. Maybe fireworks. |
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Wednesday, July 20, 2016
Ugly Plans For Laughs
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