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If you're squeamish about death maybe pass reading this one. It reflects my end of life choices and sense of humour.
Sunday evening, hubby and I were discussing end of life planning; ground burial versus cremation and the pros and cons of each. He knows I want burial and I demand with all the fortitude one can threaten “If I’m preserved with chemicals I’ll be back for revenge!” Being a survivor of Environmental Sickness and after spending twenty plus years living as green as possible, forgoing hair dye, perfumes and fingernail polish because I don't want a replay of this devastating sickness, I would be livid to think I’d have formaldehyde sloshing around in my veins.
My idea of the perfect burial is to be wrapped in linen, preferably the hooking kind from the shop. Cocoon me in this biodegradable cloth and place me in the ground like a stuffed gunny sack so I turn to dust swiftly, melding with mother earth as all dead, organic matter should. Then plant a willow over me to absorb my nutrients so I become one with the tree; sway in the wind and feel the sun on the leaves for as long as it stands.
That conversation with hubby was timely, because coincidentally, the very next day, I was on the way to work listening to Terry O’Reilly's CBC radio show “The Age of Persuasion” and caught an interesting tidbit. He was talking about the funeral industry and how it’s changing to capture the green market. He said that there is a company in Europe that makes wool caskets. My ears perked up. Did I hear that correctly? Wool? As soon as I arrived at work I did a little research on the internet and low and behold such a thing exists. These coffins are totally biodegradable but durable enough to hold a body up to 800 plus pounds. I thought wow, how fabulous; I need to have one of those, what a fitting way for an organic gal like me to bunk down underground. And of course, it’s a fitting union, being a hooker, I hold wool in very high regard! The wool caskets were actually stylish and cosy looking; a coffin Sam McGee might have settled for instead of the burning barge.
Really, is there’s anything better than wool to keep you toasty and dry? I'd love to rest in fleece! My mom would have appreciated this kind of interment vessel, considering she always had cold feet. When she passed away I put socks on her and of course, in my mind I knew it was sentimental and foolish, but my heart was drowning in grief and I needed to do something to appease my sadness. It was the last bit of comfort I could provide and in a way, it made me feel better.
Thinking back, I find it strange that I did the sock thing considering I firmly believe that once you die, your body is just the shell you used to get around in. Now, void of life, it’s only biology, not something to lock up in a hermetically sealed coffin and bury in a cement crypt in hopes to keep everything intact for as long as possible. That’s all done for the living, the folks left behind; helping them to sleep better at night knowing the elements can’t get in to make a mess of things. For me, what made you the person you were, is no longer there. They’ve shed their flawed, earthly form and moved on. All the things we do to a body is for the loved ones left behind, not exactly the best for the flesh and bone remains that want to degrade and break down naturally as every other dead organism does.
To be clear, I’m not talking about the human spirit or energy of the person, I’m talking about the organic shell, the remains, the corpse, the cadaver, the corpus delicti, the carcass, the relic or the stiff! That’s why I don’t linger around the graves of my parents. They are not there. But I do visit with them and often. All I have to do is close my eyes to see them; they will live in my heart and in my thoughts until the day of my own last breath.
Anyway, this was not meant to be morbid. I know death can make some folks uncomfortable. It was only meant to inform you about wool caskets….wow! Wish I’d thought of it myself. I have enough wool around here to go into manufacturing! I’d prefer something plaid for myself, maybe our family’s tartan or an in your face red. I would imagine one could felt a bunch of words on the casket. Friends, get out your needles and leave a few words or hieroglyphics as a sign of your undying love for me…….
Hubby and I discuss these matters often. One needs to be clear with the program so we can honour the wishes of our partners. Most find the topic taboo but we are prepared with our bequests and wishes of favorite songs and plan for the big goodbye. For me, hopefully there won’t be many tears, just a celebration of my life with good food, good drink and a tale or two to lighten the sadness. With all the shenanigans I get up too there should be lots to tell.
So I was thinking of some fun stuff that might help deal with the grieving. Hubby knows the ‘no chemical rule’ which is tattooed on his brain, and he knows he needs to plant me quickly so I don’t stink up the place. Without preservatives a pong moves in rather quickly, especially in the summer. I've asked that he add a few provisions before sending me off. Yes, it’s all foolishness but the Egyptians believed in packing the journey with all kinds of goodies, favorite possessions, gold, food, even the servants were killed and buried along with their dead king. Today, they say you can’t take it with you, but who makes these rules?
I’m a diabetic and every food that tastes decent is bad for me. My life is bland when it comes to eating. If I want to live as long as possible, mealtime is a struggle to find food that keeps the blood sugars level but still stimulates the taste buds. It’s a chore and when I see others shoveling in the good stuff I hanker for the same, but I know it’s a slow suicide. If I’m ever told I have 24 hours to live I’ll stuff myself to the gizzard with all the forbidden foods I deprive myself of. #1 on the list is the potato chip. They have been my vice and is probably the reason I have this problem in the first place. One was always too many and a thousand was never enough. Once the bag is opened it was all hand to mouth until empty.
If I don't get the advance warning so I can stuff myself with all the things I crave, I told hubby to substitute the customary rose petals for potato chips. Yup, throw deep fried potatoes over my casket. The good kinds too like Kettle Creek or Covered Bridge and maybe a bit of variety. I do like a good Salt & Vinegar and then there’s Mesquite! Usually if I cheat I eat the non-salted ones so my fingers won't swell, so forget that, throw me the good stuff, the ones heavy laden with salt, at this point I’ll be bloating anyway.
Then I took it further and requested a few watermelons. I lust after the water laden vegetable/fruit but it’s laced with sugar and so forbidden. I want the good kind too, not the modified stuff; give me the one with the black seeds, spare no expense. Anything caramel would work nicely and I haven’t had fudge in decades. It’s criminally sweet, like shooting pure sugar directly into the veins but friggin to die for! So give me some of my mother’s brown sugar fudge, firm and delicious, she made the best! Oh yes, ask Mary Jane to make her delicious pound cake with real frosting, she can’t refuse my last request right? Cut a few pieces off for me and pass the rest around. And last but not least, a couple dozen of my nana’s doughnuts and don’t forget to throw in the little fried holes.
Pack me up and send me off with a smile on your face. And just to be clear, I know I won't be tasting any of these goodies, I believe it would be a fun way to console my friends and loved ones who will undoubtedly feel a profound sadness with my passing.....at least I hope! It will give them a distraction to help deal with the helplessness we feel when someone we love dies. Everyone knows I'm a joker and quirky, why should my death be awash with tears? I wouldn't want that.
Maybe it will lighten the mood as they say their last goodbye and throw desserts and chips in the grave with me.........maybe they'll experience the same feeling I had putting socks on my mom......
Sunday evening, hubby and I were discussing end of life planning; ground burial versus cremation and the pros and cons of each. He knows I want burial and I demand with all the fortitude one can threaten “If I’m preserved with chemicals I’ll be back for revenge!” Being a survivor of Environmental Sickness and after spending twenty plus years living as green as possible, forgoing hair dye, perfumes and fingernail polish because I don't want a replay of this devastating sickness, I would be livid to think I’d have formaldehyde sloshing around in my veins.
My idea of the perfect burial is to be wrapped in linen, preferably the hooking kind from the shop. Cocoon me in this biodegradable cloth and place me in the ground like a stuffed gunny sack so I turn to dust swiftly, melding with mother earth as all dead, organic matter should. Then plant a willow over me to absorb my nutrients so I become one with the tree; sway in the wind and feel the sun on the leaves for as long as it stands.
That conversation with hubby was timely, because coincidentally, the very next day, I was on the way to work listening to Terry O’Reilly's CBC radio show “The Age of Persuasion” and caught an interesting tidbit. He was talking about the funeral industry and how it’s changing to capture the green market. He said that there is a company in Europe that makes wool caskets. My ears perked up. Did I hear that correctly? Wool? As soon as I arrived at work I did a little research on the internet and low and behold such a thing exists. These coffins are totally biodegradable but durable enough to hold a body up to 800 plus pounds. I thought wow, how fabulous; I need to have one of those, what a fitting way for an organic gal like me to bunk down underground. And of course, it’s a fitting union, being a hooker, I hold wool in very high regard! The wool caskets were actually stylish and cosy looking; a coffin Sam McGee might have settled for instead of the burning barge.
Really, is there’s anything better than wool to keep you toasty and dry? I'd love to rest in fleece! My mom would have appreciated this kind of interment vessel, considering she always had cold feet. When she passed away I put socks on her and of course, in my mind I knew it was sentimental and foolish, but my heart was drowning in grief and I needed to do something to appease my sadness. It was the last bit of comfort I could provide and in a way, it made me feel better.
Thinking back, I find it strange that I did the sock thing considering I firmly believe that once you die, your body is just the shell you used to get around in. Now, void of life, it’s only biology, not something to lock up in a hermetically sealed coffin and bury in a cement crypt in hopes to keep everything intact for as long as possible. That’s all done for the living, the folks left behind; helping them to sleep better at night knowing the elements can’t get in to make a mess of things. For me, what made you the person you were, is no longer there. They’ve shed their flawed, earthly form and moved on. All the things we do to a body is for the loved ones left behind, not exactly the best for the flesh and bone remains that want to degrade and break down naturally as every other dead organism does.
To be clear, I’m not talking about the human spirit or energy of the person, I’m talking about the organic shell, the remains, the corpse, the cadaver, the corpus delicti, the carcass, the relic or the stiff! That’s why I don’t linger around the graves of my parents. They are not there. But I do visit with them and often. All I have to do is close my eyes to see them; they will live in my heart and in my thoughts until the day of my own last breath.
Anyway, this was not meant to be morbid. I know death can make some folks uncomfortable. It was only meant to inform you about wool caskets….wow! Wish I’d thought of it myself. I have enough wool around here to go into manufacturing! I’d prefer something plaid for myself, maybe our family’s tartan or an in your face red. I would imagine one could felt a bunch of words on the casket. Friends, get out your needles and leave a few words or hieroglyphics as a sign of your undying love for me…….
Hubby and I discuss these matters often. One needs to be clear with the program so we can honour the wishes of our partners. Most find the topic taboo but we are prepared with our bequests and wishes of favorite songs and plan for the big goodbye. For me, hopefully there won’t be many tears, just a celebration of my life with good food, good drink and a tale or two to lighten the sadness. With all the shenanigans I get up too there should be lots to tell.
So I was thinking of some fun stuff that might help deal with the grieving. Hubby knows the ‘no chemical rule’ which is tattooed on his brain, and he knows he needs to plant me quickly so I don’t stink up the place. Without preservatives a pong moves in rather quickly, especially in the summer. I've asked that he add a few provisions before sending me off. Yes, it’s all foolishness but the Egyptians believed in packing the journey with all kinds of goodies, favorite possessions, gold, food, even the servants were killed and buried along with their dead king. Today, they say you can’t take it with you, but who makes these rules?
I’m a diabetic and every food that tastes decent is bad for me. My life is bland when it comes to eating. If I want to live as long as possible, mealtime is a struggle to find food that keeps the blood sugars level but still stimulates the taste buds. It’s a chore and when I see others shoveling in the good stuff I hanker for the same, but I know it’s a slow suicide. If I’m ever told I have 24 hours to live I’ll stuff myself to the gizzard with all the forbidden foods I deprive myself of. #1 on the list is the potato chip. They have been my vice and is probably the reason I have this problem in the first place. One was always too many and a thousand was never enough. Once the bag is opened it was all hand to mouth until empty.
If I don't get the advance warning so I can stuff myself with all the things I crave, I told hubby to substitute the customary rose petals for potato chips. Yup, throw deep fried potatoes over my casket. The good kinds too like Kettle Creek or Covered Bridge and maybe a bit of variety. I do like a good Salt & Vinegar and then there’s Mesquite! Usually if I cheat I eat the non-salted ones so my fingers won't swell, so forget that, throw me the good stuff, the ones heavy laden with salt, at this point I’ll be bloating anyway.
Then I took it further and requested a few watermelons. I lust after the water laden vegetable/fruit but it’s laced with sugar and so forbidden. I want the good kind too, not the modified stuff; give me the one with the black seeds, spare no expense. Anything caramel would work nicely and I haven’t had fudge in decades. It’s criminally sweet, like shooting pure sugar directly into the veins but friggin to die for! So give me some of my mother’s brown sugar fudge, firm and delicious, she made the best! Oh yes, ask Mary Jane to make her delicious pound cake with real frosting, she can’t refuse my last request right? Cut a few pieces off for me and pass the rest around. And last but not least, a couple dozen of my nana’s doughnuts and don’t forget to throw in the little fried holes.
Pack me up and send me off with a smile on your face. And just to be clear, I know I won't be tasting any of these goodies, I believe it would be a fun way to console my friends and loved ones who will undoubtedly feel a profound sadness with my passing.....at least I hope! It will give them a distraction to help deal with the helplessness we feel when someone we love dies. Everyone knows I'm a joker and quirky, why should my death be awash with tears? I wouldn't want that.
Maybe it will lighten the mood as they say their last goodbye and throw desserts and chips in the grave with me.........maybe they'll experience the same feeling I had putting socks on my mom......
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