Cremate me. Please.
This might seem like a premature request, seeing as I am a fairly healthy 41 year old woman who recently went head to head with a mammogram machine and won, but a recent visit to my grandmother’s grave site made me realize how important this little bit of info is to me.
I want to be cremated.
Burn baby burn.
It is a conversation I have had with my parents (they have expressed a wish to do the same thing). I have spoken to my husband about this. I now put this in writing to seal the deal.
It all circles around the guilt I feel for not visiting the grave sites of the loved ones gone before me. It is not the lack of caring for these loved ones, merely I do not want to remember them as they are now – locked in a casket, 6 feet underground with nothing but a tombstone to mark their place in this world.
I would rather remember them as they were. When they were alive.
Case and point, my grandma. She passed in August of 1994 after her heart decided, two surgeries later, it just did not wish to pump anymore. She was a huge part of my life, and was the center of the universe in my dad’s family. While we knew she was not doing well, her passing was unexpected and was a huge blow to our family (so much so, her lack of presence is still felt to this day).
I am typing this now, feeling like an asshole as I admit this past weekend was only the third time I had visited her grave site in 15 years. Once immediately after her passing, once in 2006 and then this past weekend. And you know what brought me there in 2006 and 2009? Woolfcamp. It just so happens the venue is about 300 feet away from the cemetery where my grandpa, grandma and cousin are buried. Had I not attended this event, I would not have gone anywhere near this place.
Even more embarrassing, both times (in 2006 and this past weekend) I spent 30+ minutes trying to find her grave site. So stupid. I knew where it should be, but had a hell of a time finding it. This drama around the location combined with the guilt of not visiting more and then the weird sensation of ‘well, what do we do now that we found it’ really solidified the fact I do not wish to be put in the ground.
I love you grandma. You helped shape who I am today. You will always be in my heart. I just can’t visit *that spot* again. I know you understand.
To my loved ones who will have to deal with my passing – cremate me and throw me to the wind. I don’t even need a special spot to be let go – ok, I want to be set free over the ocean. Just make absolutely sure I am not put in some urn and placed on a mantle or I will come back and haunt whoever does that to me.
I mean it. And trust me, I won’t be like that silly Casper ghost either.