Ah Death, one of my family’s favorite subjects around the dinner table. ( Hubby’s family cannot even discuss the subject. They are the perky family, we are the pessimistics.)
If more people talked about death and planned for it, like they plan a wedding, it would not be such a huge shock. It would help with the transition.
My fantasy “burial” if you can call it that was one that I read about in either National Geographic or something like that: I want my dead body to be flown to the ancient kingdom of Mustang ( somewhere really remote in Tibet or Nepal.) Where the Buddist monks wrap my naked form up in linen and take me out to this pasture and uncover me. All around the town hang little flags ( think car lot banners) that have prayers written on them by the locals. The monks blow these huge Ricola like horns that after a while, summons the …yes…vultures, who descend for an afternoon snack of my body. The thought is that when the vultures strip my bones, they fly off carrying my spirit and the prayers of the town to the heavens.
I’ve shared this with hubby and he said, after eyeing me like I’ve lost my marbles (again) and said that by the time my body makes it to Mustang, I’d be too yucky for the birds and that the best he could do was to throw me out in the backyards for the pidgeons to peck at.
In a more reality based world: Cremation with my ashes scattered in all my favorite places I’ve ever been too. That way my survivors get to see the world. If this isn’t possible, then to scatter my ashes inside a bookstore, ala The Great Escape method of disposing the dirt in the POW compound.
I agree with the open caskets are icky. My grandmother was 94 when she died and my last memory of her was wearing lip gloss in the casket. I have seen people actually take pictures of the deceased.
My mother wants a closed casket with a bar served atop her and everyone gets to drink a toast in her honor in Waterford glasses. The glasses was recently added by her and I asked who would be paying for these glasses.
“Why you would, of course.”
“Well, I hope your friends know that Dixie Cups are made by Waterford, cause that’s what everyone will be drinkin’ out of.”
Hubby’s ashes will be scattered at Home Depot. He’s there enough as it is and it’s is happy place.