Well, I’d just hope that whoever’s around to survive me will like me enough to write a moving and sentimental epitaph on my headstone. Prob’ly won’t happen, though. sigh
There’s a nice little cemetery a few miles from where I grew up in Marin County. A spot on the hill would be nice, overlooking the freeway. So in the evening I could “see” the red line of tailights stretching south, a white one going north, all beneath the pink-orange sky, as Mt. Tam peaks silently out from beneath the incoming fog.
Double sigh
Failing those, It’d be fine with me to use my corpse in a grandiose prank. Like dressing my body in a toga, and leaving me high in the Andes, arm outstretched to a rock etched, as if with superhuman strength, in Latin with:
“In the name of Emperor Hadrian, I hereby claim this land in the name of everlasting ROME. SPQR”
That one should give the archeologists fits when my mummy is found, perhaps hundreds of years later.
All of course, barring the albeit slim possibility of getting my frozen corpse fired out of the solar system in a space probe. Perhaps one emblazoned with:
"Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings…
…And all you stupid penny-pinching luddite groundies are still stuck back home, getting eaten by worms. So long, suckers!"