Saturday, February 14, 2015

My Dying Wish


Whatever else you might think of my columns, you have to concede that they are diverse. The subject of this one is a serious topic, but I will start with something humorous that happened recently.

We were driving home from the grocery store when Judy spotted an object in the road that hadn't been there on our drive to the store.   She exclaimed, "Oh,no!" expecting to see a dead dog but, as we got closer, it was obvious that the object was a small rug.  I started laughing at the idea that she was getting so emotional about a "dead rug".

It strikes me as strange that we hate to see dead people or animals, yet we customarily go to "viewings" and funerals where the coffin is open and the deceased is on display.  I've been to several in my life, and the corpse always looks like a mannequin, not as I recall the actual person.

So, I ask you, why do we need to do it?  Or, I could ask what is so special about this "closure"?  My recollection of those people whom I viewed in their coffins is marred by the image of the waxy corpse, a terrible finality with which to remember them.  Those whom I didn't view are much better recalled for me in life settings.

Accordingly, I want my remains cremated ASAP and those I leave behind can then have a memorial service, or a wake, or even a party in my memory.  And, since I am frequently on the road, if I should die "in the saddle" as the saying goes, I prefer that the cremation be performed in whatever city or town I happen to be and my remains sent or carried back home for interment.

I want my family and friends to remember me the way I was the last time they were with me; no mental pictures of some "dummy" in a fancy box.  I still have that image of my mother and it freaks me out that it is a lasting impression.  Please don't make that same mistake with me.

Both of my brothers were cremated and one, since he was an avid golfer, had his ashes spread on the only green where he ever aced the hole - That's a 'hole in one' for you non-golf aficionados.  My memory of Dick is of the last time I visited with him and played golf.  My brother Don had his wife hold a party at their house after the memorial service.  My memory of Don is also of a visit where we recalled good times from our childhood.  Those memories are sweet and clear.

Now that we have that out of the way, no, I'm not planning on going anytime soon, and, yes, I feel just fine!  Thanks for thinking about it, however, and I know you did.