I’m not going in the ground. After the doctors have harvested everything of use to others, strike the match. And the ashes will be bagged up in little baggies, placed in a bowl at the party and I’ll go to all the places my friends and family want to take me.
The music on the flash drive for the party is pieces that represent the stages of my life and will mean different things to different people.
Or whatever the guy that sweeps up at the crematorium is listening to that day.