Some very morbid plans.
Does
anyone else ever think about how they’re going to die? Or maybe,
what will happen when they’re dead? Just me? Okay then…
I’ve
been thinking about it quite a bit, after my last
appointment with my wonderful neurosurgeon. He confirmed that I am still stable (yay!) and then said, quite confidently, that he thinks it’s more likely I’ll pass away due
to old age, rather than my t-word finishing me off.
I
was stunned. I hadn’t realised just how many bets I’d put on my
wee brain bugger creeping up on me in later life; I’d always
thought it would come back with a vengeance and finish what it
started back in 2014 (then attempted to continue in 2015). I’d
actually taken some comfort in knowing what it would be – much like
that funny 2003 film, ‘Big Fish’, in which a tiny Ewan McGregor
gets a prophecy from Helena Bonham-Carter in her seemingly eternal
witchy form, and learns what will kill him, then lives the rest of
his life in complete confidence because
he knows what’s
gonna get him in the end.
But
now...it could be anything. I mean, I can of course hope that I leave
this messed up planet at a good time, preferably in a totally
painless way, when I’m totally fulfilled and satisfied with the
life I’ve lived. Maybe when I’m having an afternoon nap on my
sofa, in my modest town house in Winchester, where I’ve returned to
for a quiet but creative retirement. The cats will cuddle up with me,
and I’ll be found by my neighbours when they pop by for our usual
Wednesday evening gin-tasting session out on my terrace.
Anyway,
in case there’s a Final Destination-style freak accident or I
contract yet another mysterious illness (v likely, with my record) before then, perhaps this
blog post will help my friends and family out when they’re
arranging my magnificent send-off…?
I
want to be burned. That’s for sure. Being buried in a church yard
terrifies me, plus I’d hate to be trampled by hikers or peed on
by dogs...although I’d love to have aspiring authors come across my
headstone and use my name for a character in their debut novel!?
I’d
like my ashes to be scattered somewhere cool. I’m not sure what
would be ‘my place’ just yet, but maybe if possible my family
could fly with the Dead Grace Dust out to Australia and throw it into the sea off
Burleigh Point? Or maybe if you guys are on a budget, the West Hill
in Hastings will do. Oh, but it’ll have to be on the May bank
holiday, during the Jack in the Green celebrations. The hippies will
love it! Just don’t let
them smoke or snort me...
I
want my jewellery to be shared out among my very best friends. Floop
can have my clear quartz necklace, and Grandma’s knick knacks I
inherited. The parents can take my ‘showy’ raw
crystal pieces, the ones I
keep on my window sill in my childhood bedroom (or, in the future,
the ones that will decorate my plush seaside apartment in Hove).
Sophia
and Rosie get
custody of my
cats. Clare gets my books – and can distribute the ones she doesn’t
want in as many Bexhill charity shops or libraries or schools she
fancies. Louise (and, I
guess, Ryan) can have my laptop, my phone...and any kids I end up
making. Maddie can have my
notebooks, my clothes – so
she can cut them up and make freaky costumes – and
my gigantic toy Stitch (also, a
team of you gals will have to
find and destroy the contents of my Sexy Drawer, please and thank
you).
Finally,
I would like a casual, brightly coloured memorial service with
absolutely no religious affinities. Nobody is allowed to wear black.
And when my body enters the building (in a bio-degradable coffin,
painted in fabulous metallic colours by my friends and family) I will
need ‘The Greenest Grass’ by Joshua Radin to play. Then halfway
through the cheery service – the far from final celebration of me – I think
it’s only right to play ‘Amazing Grace’, but in a funky remixed
way, with a sick beat. And
finally, as I am pushed into the fire or whatever happens when a
service ends and the curtains are ominously drawn, I need ‘Body in
a Box’ OR ‘Hello,
I’m in Delaware’ by City and Colour to play and I want everyone
to raise a shot of whisky to me as it plays.
Okay so, that’s all I’ve got for now. What about you, lovely readers? Any specific plans for your departure from this earth? How do you want to be remembered?
Comment or tweet me if you’re feeling as morbid as I am!
I think about it a lot, mainly since a lot of people around me have died. I don't get a lot of understanding, so it was refreshing to read your blogpost.
ReplyDeleteI'm always here for any and all conversations about death! *hugs*
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