On the Subject of Funerals
I like funerals, does that make me strange? I never have any excuse to be in funerally places, except when someone's died. I like funerally places, though...all the wood is shiny, and everything is so polite and polished.
...It makes me look forward to writing my own eulogy, and having a huge laugh over picking out the right urn for my ashes, and the look on my relatives face when I tell them what I want done with the ashes that don't fit. My aunt is a Funeral Director and Embalmer, she tells me that there's almost always way more ashes than can fit in a single urn.
In case you're wondering, I'm going to have this sort of thing put into my living will, so that my relatives will be legally obligated to accept how much of a dork I am when I'm gone, rather than to go on and on about handsome and mostly-false platitudes about being a good daughter and whatnot.
I'd like to be present at my own wake, conscious and alive and everything, if possible. I think it's called an "Irish Wake" or something...but it sounds like a lot more fun than toddling off into eternity and trusting my family to remember me nicely.
And another thing!
...why is it that people find funerals so sad?
I mean, I understand, you'll miss the person, and whatnot, but...If you believe they're headed off to a much better place, then what's the deal? In the eye of eternity, the fifty-odd years it'll take to see them again are literally nothing. It's like when you're a kid and ten minutes in a time-out chair seem like an eternity and a half...even though they really, really aren't. It's more like they're going off on a cruise to the Ultra-Bahamas, and you'll join them when the boat docks again. If I were going on a really great vacation, and people burst into tears because of this, I'd be a bit annoyed. Be happy for me, you jerks, I'd be happy for you!
Maybe I'm being insensitive. Story of my life.
So, what do you think, pokéball shaped funerary urn, or what?
Screw the living, smile into the breezes of eternity.
...It makes me look forward to writing my own eulogy, and having a huge laugh over picking out the right urn for my ashes, and the look on my relatives face when I tell them what I want done with the ashes that don't fit. My aunt is a Funeral Director and Embalmer, she tells me that there's almost always way more ashes than can fit in a single urn.
In case you're wondering, I'm going to have this sort of thing put into my living will, so that my relatives will be legally obligated to accept how much of a dork I am when I'm gone, rather than to go on and on about handsome and mostly-false platitudes about being a good daughter and whatnot.
I'd like to be present at my own wake, conscious and alive and everything, if possible. I think it's called an "Irish Wake" or something...but it sounds like a lot more fun than toddling off into eternity and trusting my family to remember me nicely.
And another thing!
...why is it that people find funerals so sad?
I mean, I understand, you'll miss the person, and whatnot, but...If you believe they're headed off to a much better place, then what's the deal? In the eye of eternity, the fifty-odd years it'll take to see them again are literally nothing. It's like when you're a kid and ten minutes in a time-out chair seem like an eternity and a half...even though they really, really aren't. It's more like they're going off on a cruise to the Ultra-Bahamas, and you'll join them when the boat docks again. If I were going on a really great vacation, and people burst into tears because of this, I'd be a bit annoyed. Be happy for me, you jerks, I'd be happy for you!
Maybe I'm being insensitive. Story of my life.
So, what do you think, pokéball shaped funerary urn, or what?
Screw the living, smile into the breezes of eternity.