Famous Last Words
In my entire life I have been to only three wakes and one funeral.
A part of me is extremely grateful that I haven’t had to experience the departure of anyone close to me, while another part of me is secretly somewhat disturbed.
Death is a very touchy subject I know, but I feel I have a little authority to talk about it candidly seeing as how I am actually going to die someday. I have, over the course of time, managed to come to terms with the idea of death and what it entails for me and I speak about it with the candour that I would like to be accorded to me when my time is up. If anyone is offended by my (sometimes cavalier) way of talking about dying, I honestly don’t blame you, so try not to blame me either, will you? There’s a good lad.
The truth is that while I have no problem with the actual idea of expiration, I have realised that wakes can sometimes be uncomfortable affairs for some people. For one, I'm not sure the deceased person likes to have people standing over her body, whispering things about how peaceful she looks and/or how unlike herself they have made her out to be. For another, while I think the living companions of the deceased do appreciate the closure of well wishes and the company of visitors, they aren’t that fond of people standing over their relative’s body, whispering things about how peaceful they look and/or how unlike themselves they have been made her out to be either.
This epiphany has led to a personal decision of sorts.
I don’t want to have a wake. There, I said it!
Frankly speaking, I can’t abide by the idea of lying there for days with my friends crowding around my coffin and wondering when I last grew so fat or why they dressed me in such a strange, uncharacteristically-lacy affair. I don’t know that it would be much fun for my loved ones either, having to make the corresponding preparations. Instead, if the relevant "authorities" don’t mind me having my say, I’d rather be “put to rest” on the same day of my death or one day after if it must wait.
I figure in that time, everybody who wants to can come to say their goodbyes and see me as I really was and before they have had too much time to speculate on the size of my waist when I am not sucking my stomach in, I can be sent off. I would love for my impromptu “funeral” to be like Graham Chapman’s –truthful, spontaneous, funny and irreverant with people celebrating life rather than mourning death. I imagine there would be groups of my friends standing around on a nice beach with all their dogs, talking and laughing over good chocolate and champagne and swearing loudly occasionally.
Ideally, I’d love to be put in a wooden boat and pushed out to sea before being coated in kerosene, set on fire and left to drift like the Vikings used to do to their dead.
If possible, I’d even be especially partial to good music playing loudly as I sail off. It could be either some good psychadelic stuff (“Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds”, “Because”) or the theme song from The Nightmare Before Christmas, just so that I could have a final poke at those who assumed I’d reached the end of my mischief.
Unlike the sentences I begin with “Have you heard the one about…”, I am absolutely not joking. So. If you’re reading this and you’re not too disturbed or disgusted by the idea (and you’ve decided you still want to be my friend), you’re more than welcome to come when it happens if you happen to be in the vicinity. There’ll be loads of good music, funny speeches and nice things to eat. And a boat! And a fire!
If you happen to know the words to The Night Before Christmas theme song, you can even join in. And just in case you happened to miss me amid the festivity, I’ll watch from wherever I am then and laugh with you.
It’ll be fun.
I promise.
A part of me is extremely grateful that I haven’t had to experience the departure of anyone close to me, while another part of me is secretly somewhat disturbed.
Death is a very touchy subject I know, but I feel I have a little authority to talk about it candidly seeing as how I am actually going to die someday. I have, over the course of time, managed to come to terms with the idea of death and what it entails for me and I speak about it with the candour that I would like to be accorded to me when my time is up. If anyone is offended by my (sometimes cavalier) way of talking about dying, I honestly don’t blame you, so try not to blame me either, will you? There’s a good lad.
The truth is that while I have no problem with the actual idea of expiration, I have realised that wakes can sometimes be uncomfortable affairs for some people. For one, I'm not sure the deceased person likes to have people standing over her body, whispering things about how peaceful she looks and/or how unlike herself they have made her out to be. For another, while I think the living companions of the deceased do appreciate the closure of well wishes and the company of visitors, they aren’t that fond of people standing over their relative’s body, whispering things about how peaceful they look and/or how unlike themselves they have been made her out to be either.
This epiphany has led to a personal decision of sorts.
I don’t want to have a wake. There, I said it!
Frankly speaking, I can’t abide by the idea of lying there for days with my friends crowding around my coffin and wondering when I last grew so fat or why they dressed me in such a strange, uncharacteristically-lacy affair. I don’t know that it would be much fun for my loved ones either, having to make the corresponding preparations. Instead, if the relevant "authorities" don’t mind me having my say, I’d rather be “put to rest” on the same day of my death or one day after if it must wait.
I figure in that time, everybody who wants to can come to say their goodbyes and see me as I really was and before they have had too much time to speculate on the size of my waist when I am not sucking my stomach in, I can be sent off. I would love for my impromptu “funeral” to be like Graham Chapman’s –truthful, spontaneous, funny and irreverant with people celebrating life rather than mourning death. I imagine there would be groups of my friends standing around on a nice beach with all their dogs, talking and laughing over good chocolate and champagne and swearing loudly occasionally.
Ideally, I’d love to be put in a wooden boat and pushed out to sea before being coated in kerosene, set on fire and left to drift like the Vikings used to do to their dead.
If possible, I’d even be especially partial to good music playing loudly as I sail off. It could be either some good psychadelic stuff (“Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds”, “Because”) or the theme song from The Nightmare Before Christmas, just so that I could have a final poke at those who assumed I’d reached the end of my mischief.
Unlike the sentences I begin with “Have you heard the one about…”, I am absolutely not joking. So. If you’re reading this and you’re not too disturbed or disgusted by the idea (and you’ve decided you still want to be my friend), you’re more than welcome to come when it happens if you happen to be in the vicinity. There’ll be loads of good music, funny speeches and nice things to eat. And a boat! And a fire!
If you happen to know the words to The Night Before Christmas theme song, you can even join in. And just in case you happened to miss me amid the festivity, I’ll watch from wherever I am then and laugh with you.
It’ll be fun.
I promise.
She said, she said at 1:44 am
3 Comments:
"And would, if you could, turn that mighty clock back,
To that long, fateful night. Now, think carefully, Jack.
Would you do the whole thing all over again,
Knowing what you know now, knowing what you knew then?”
And he smiled, like the old pumpkin king that I knew,
Then turned and asked softly of me, “Wouldn’t you?”"
That's soo you. Considering I may not outlive you, I will help plan the beach party so long as I am sane enough to do so (not that you'd mine having a mad hatters party if the beach party thing doesn't work out) AND no one forces me to have a sand bar with mud entries and stuff like that.
Don't know about myself though...I mean what I'd want for my funeral.
Oh my, that's my dream funeral too!! (heh, I do realize that most of our contemporaries are more in a dream-wedding kind of place right now). I don't mean the exact details, but, being terrified of the incinerator idea, and not fancying being buried 6 feet under either, I've thought that a grand Viking-insh (or whatever tradition it comes from-ish) send-off on a boat'll be lovely! Heh, if we go at the same time, we can "race" our boats to meet each other mid-ocean/river/lake/whatever water body!
--Stas
Girl -- Paws
Babe! That bit you quoted from TNBC is so perfect! Of course you're welcome to organise any kind of thing you like! Play your guitar and sing something before the send off if you want... or else make your spinach dip and bring it along to eat (YUM)! Just make sure you wash your hands before you eat... if you know what I'm getting at!
Girl -- Stas
It's okay babe... I'm not exactly dreaming of weddings either! Are you really frightened of being cremated and buried? I've met my soulmate! And yes, of course we can have a race... bear in mind I don't think we'll reach the finish line before going up in smoke! It'll be one hell of a finale though!
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