Hurting sucks, my middle-aged body is breaking down. I also find that my eyes are not working as well as they once did. I can understand how people grow weary of living, of how they're ready to move on when the time comes. I don't intend to go anytime soon. I love my wife, my kids, and my other relatives. I know what it feels like when someone checks out prematurely, and I love those around me enough to not hurt them in that manner. Plus, as I sometimes say, I am curious to know what happens next.
I do, however, find it a topic of my consciousness. Not so much of "how" or "when" I will go, rather what happens to my mortal remains afterward.
My mother always used the stereotypical "pine box" statement. When she passed, it was difficult to find one. We wound up buying a nice "oak box" for her. Wasn't cheap, but I personally don't regret what we chose. It was nice, although probably more than she would have selected.
(An aside: One of my cousins is petrified of snakes. After my mother's ceremony, and when I was emotionally spent, I was reluctant to leave the cemetery. As the dirt was filling the grave, my uncle tossed a dead garter snake between my cousin's legs. He did a little dance, made a little noise, (Sorry, Bee-Gees) and nearly fell into my mother's grave. Irreverent, totally inappropriate... and funnier than shit. I literally laughed until I cried.)
I have told my wife that I wish to be interred in the local Veteran's cemetery. Of course I have no final voice in the ultimate disposition of my remains, but I believe she'll honor my wishes.
My wife's oldest brother passed last Spring. His funeral was not fancy. And he was buried in a wonderful, handmade pine box. The ceremony was simple, and his brothers and I took turns tossing dirt into the grave. All part of the cycle, in my view.
I actually found plans online for several book cases which can be converted into coffins quite easily. I like the idea of laughing in Death's face. But of course, He will ultimately win and have the last laugh.
(Warning: From this point, my post is going to get quite graphic.)
Some Tibetans have a "Sky Funeral" in which, after a period of ritual, the body is "broken" by professionals. (Chopped up, in other words.) The body is left for vultures to devour. I personally find that elegant. It is also practical, for the mountains are rocky and burial is difficult. Cremation is also not a simple option, due to the lack of combustible material.
Hindus have their sacred Ganges River... corpses routinely float in plain sight.
Zoroastrians have "Towers of Silence" where, much like "Sky Funerals" the bodies are left as carrion for the birds.
Call me morbidly afflicted. Death is the end result of the terminal disease of life. We may practice embalming in our Western culture, deceiving ourselves into some illusion of immortality, but we are all destined to become worm food, like so much road-kill.
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