Disposal of the Remains

I have one friend with whom I might discuss my death (or his) as a very present reality. I have perhaps four, and another nine acquaintances or so, with whom I can discuss it as a someday-reality. There is reason for this, and it's not just how close that first friendship is, or how in- or out- of touch with reality people are.

Same thing with Cheryl. The three of us could laugh about death fine, until we learned that her time was a lot shorter. Her death was actually in this reality. And then nobody talked about it.

Frankly, people just don't want to talk about death. Not that close, not that real. If it's happening to somebody else, if it's happening years from now, if it's not going to happen here. We don't really know how to deal with death. I suspect that this is a cultural thing. It's almost like a civilian/soldier thing. Certain people have access to seeing death. Roadkill is an accident, and you still feel bad. Meat arrives drained, pre-packaged. The body is cleaned up and prepared for the funeral.

Maybe in a culture where death doesn't take place out of sight, you don't talk about death as much for the other reason. It happens all the time. What's to talk about?

So, at a wedding, of all places (actually, the reception), my friend Micro-Psycho and I were discussing what we want done with our bodies. And, after years of deliberation, I have come to the following conclusion.

"Take whatever organs you want, chuck whatever's left in the ocean for the fish, and weigh it down with something biodegradable so it doesn't come floating up later and traumatize some poor kid at the beach."

I don't mind if they want to make a rock or something, but the whole encased-in-steel business is really a bit much. I'm not there anymore, I don't really give a rip what happens, and I think my empty casing is a stupid reason to put more junk in the ground. Pick something basic that's not going to do any more damage to the world than it possibly needs to, and forget about it! Go have a party!

Oh yeah, that's another thing. You can try mourning me if you want, but honestly, you know that I'd rather celebrate than anything else. I'm home! And I hopefully did some things in life that made the world better and made you smile a time or two! Go party! If I have some time and I know it's coming, I will try to put together a playlist of favorite tunes, otherwise, ask my little sister for the weird stuff! But have fun! Christians dying isn't actually a tragedy - just means the assignment's completed, or handed off, or something. We don't come home until God says we're done.

Micro-Psycho, in contrast, had a response both crude and culturally frightening.