Monday's a Bitch

Memento Mori

1. How comfortable are you with the idea of your own death and mortality in general? Does it bother you to think/talk about it?

I'm not ready to die yet.
Having said that, I'm pretty comfortable with the theoretical concept of death. I came to the conclusion years ago that death is easier for the dying person than the people s/he leaves behind. It doesn't bother me in the least to talk about my death, though it bothers OTHER people when I talk about it. I just think it's sensible to be sensible about all the things that go with dying--choosing a casket, figuring out the estate, planning your funeral--rather than being coy and cute and ostrich-like. It's going to happen, and it sucks for those left behind to deal with all the shit. Do some pre-emptive cleanup if you love them.

2. How would you like your remains to be handled? Would you prefer to be buried, cremated, etc., and why?

Beast knows I want to be cremated. He does, too. I would like some of my ashes taken to Colorado, preferably Ouray or somewhere in the San Juans. I would like a marker somewhere though, just cuz I like cemeteries.

Before I'm burnt up, though, I hope the usable organs remaining can be removed and reused. Beast knows that too, as well as a general policy of DNR if I'm likely to be in a PVS.

3. What would you like your funeral to be like?

Lots of music (I have a list started), lots of food afterwards at the church...I don't really care, except for the music. I'd like to hear everybody singing their lungs out.

4. What was your first experience with death?

When I was about 3, my sister was diagnosed with aplastic anemia. In 1968, that was akin to saying, "Pack your bags. You're done." The fatality rate was something like 98%. She went through several years of blood transfusions (pre-AIDS, thank God), and eventually recovered her health, but only by the grace of God and the power of prayer, and because she didn't EVER do as she was told! I was introduced to the prospect of imminent death as a very young child.

Around this same time, my dad's dad died. My dad had his first heart attack and nearly died that year as well. The year of 1967/68 was NOT a good year for my family.

The first person I actually remember dying was my mom's mother...when I was 7 or 8. She was old and in a nursing home and I didn't know her well and only remember her very long, very white hair and her very, very cold hands. I don't think I went to the funeral, but I do remember swinging around a light pole at the cemetery (and probably being reprimanded) prior to a graveside memorial service.

5. How would you prefer to die, and why?

This is sort of a trick question; who's going to say they want to suffer with cancer, or contract Alzheimer's and die slowly and incrementally over decades? George Carlin said he wants to be blown up. That was funny when he did that routine (in the 70s?); it's not so impossible now, hence less amusing. I do like his idea of a Two-Minute Warning, though. [You'll have to scroll down a ways on the page, and there's more than this quote to the original shtick.]

In any case, I'd like to die old, before my money runs out, and FAST.