I want to be dressed in a Superman costume, be tied to weather balloons and launched into the sky.
Mind, that’ll probably be the cause of death as well.
I want to be dressed in a Superman costume, be tied to weather balloons and launched into the sky.
Mind, that’ll probably be the cause of death as well.
There could be a whole seperate thread on the music selection alone.
‘Bad to the Bone’ - George Thorogood
‘Get Ready’ - Temptations
‘Working My Way Back To You Girl (…with a Burnin’ Love Inside!)’ -Spinners
“Could be”? There is one every few weeks around here.
Part me out and throw a party.
I’ve always said I wanted to be “buried at sea”, fed to the fish. But now that fish are too full of mercury to be good for the human food chain, I think perhaps I could be composted and spread over an heirloom apple orchard.
I don’t want a casket or viewing. There will be no receiving line. There will be a brief ceremony at my church, with a table in front with a photograph of me and some momentos from my life (Cubs hat, Disneyworld souvenirs, etc.). Anyone who wants to say anything may say what they wish. Two songs will be played: Remember Me by Mark Schultz and Ginny Owens, and Another Time Another Place by Sandi Patty and Wayne Watson.
I am to be cremated. My ashes will be distributed as follows: 1) a few flakes of me at Wrigley Field; 2) A few flakes of me at Walt Disney World; 3) the rest of me dumped into the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Daytona Beach.
Just one thing, really…
Make absolutely sure that I AM dead!
I’d better damn well be DEAD—none of this being buried alive stuff!
And give my earthly remains a funny tombstone, maybe something like…
“Pardon me if I don’t get up!”
or
“I told you I was sick!!!”
You know, ever since I saw the movie “S.O.B.” I always thought a Viking funeral would be pretty cool. Stick me in a boat and set it on fire…
My dad always said “closed casket, open bar,” which has an element of wisdom to it.
I’m torn between wanting to be buried, have a nice physical place at which all of my teary eyed loved ones will remember me (and they will remember me…or else MWHAHA!) and wanting to be cremated and have my ashes scattered at the beach (preferably in violation of state laws). I suppose the deciding factors would be how I assessed my odds of rising from the dead and whether I had kids at the time.
First, I’m an organ donor, so anything that’s usable should be used.
Second, if I die in Spain, my paternal family already has a plot in Pamplona. If I die abroad, just ship the body to the nearest teaching hospital. I would like to have my name on the headstone either way, but I guess that’s not going to happen: the existing headstone has been full since 1992, anybody who’s died later isn’t listed. And since a cousin of mine died abroad, the body was irretrievable by rational means (plus it really makes sense for him to be buried where he died, since he loved the place), but his mother is very angry about it… any talk of engraving the missing names ends at “what do we do about Iñaki?” “Woah! I am NOT talking to his mother about it!” “Right.” “Let’s forget it” “Forget what?”
Third, the cheapest and simplest box allowable by law. If it was acceptable, I’d like to be shrouded in old linens and tossed in; actually, if it happened to be acceptable, I’d like to be shrouded in old linens and tossed into the sea. What can I say, I believe in recycling…
I don’t really mind, being dead and all, but I’d hope to have at least some of the Bach Cello Suites (Tortellier, hopefully) playing during the service instead of the usual homilies. Harvest my organs, and let my cask be led out to something extraordinarily loud - “My Father, My King” by Mogwai or somesuch - and let me be buried up on the Tree Hill, beside our dogs, and let the trees use my husk.
I just want a solemn Protestant Christian funeral where people are actually sad for me. No “celebration of life” or that type of bullshit as substitute for a regular funeral though I’d like it as a supplement. Plenty of flowers for me and a nice gravestone somewhere in Orange County preferably Newport Beach.
Don’t want a funeral.
I hate traditional funerals. I don’t think anyone really likes them, they just feel obligated to do so because of tradition. Have a party, a bonfire, and most certainly have a food fight.
Donate any usable organs. If none are usable, donate the whole body to some medical school.
If no one wants the body, burn it.
No funeral. No wake.
If anyone wants to get together and grieve for me, I’d prefer they get together and to go Disney World and remember me happy.
Seeing as a few people have mentioned donating their bodies to medical schools and such, two questions:
How do you go about that in the US?
If consent needs to be given prior to death, have you given it?
I ask because my stepdad, here in the UK, is going to be donating his and has done the paperwork related to it. Under UK law (the Human Tissue Act), written consent has to be given before death; a family member (for example) can’t do so after your death.
I have a Lutheran’s fondness for JS Bach’s organ music, but I’m also a rock ‘n’ roller at heart. I want a funeral or memorial service in the usual liturgical style, but I want to pick the music myself. I haven’t yet nailed down the titles, but it will be a mixture of the sacred and the profane. When the last of me is disposed of, I want the last bit of music played to be “We’ll Meet Again” (end theme of Dr. Strangelove) as performed by Johnny Cash.
The after funeral event should be a party where the attendees tell tall tales about me, not the mopefests most other I’ve attended have been. Someone else said ‘Closed casket, open bar’; I’ll second that.
As far as disposing of me is concerned, I find it wasteful to be pickled and hermetically sealed inside several boxes. I’m done with my molecules, so return them to the environment for use elsewhere. My first choice is to be cremated, split my ashes 8 ways, spread them on the various graves of my immediate family, and take the last portion somewhere in the Appalachian mountains where an active railroad crosses a river or lake where the fish are biting, to be spread on a hot summer morning.
Second choice is a natural cemetary, third is the UT Body Farm.
Snort my ashes, for all I care. What I know is I don’t want to have some drawn out, 48-hour spectacle, complete with wakes, vigils, memorial services, burial, post-burial memorial services, etc. Get on with it, already. Burn me up, or bury me, but whichever you choose, get on with it. I’d prefer to be cremated, but what’s it to me once I’m gone? And no crying. It’s just death; it’ll happen to you too.
I want a traditional Catholic Mass with all the trimmings. I don’t necessarily want them to be sad for me per se, but about the yawning void my death will leave. Burial in consecrated ground, no organ donation.
Required hymns include “Sing With All The Saints In Glory”, “How Can I Keep From Singing?” and “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling”.
But after the recessional hymn and formalities are over, I want “Blow Gabriel Blow” from De-Lovely played over the sound system.
And then a fun party. The only thing I’ve left behind are quilts I’ve given people–it would be fun if everyone brought theirs to the party.
I’m drawn to the dramatic, the floating burning viking ship.
I’d have to start saving, though. My current headstone fund consist of one $100 savings bond given me by my grandfather and set aside in his memory.