Will You Bury Me?
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about a funeral. You know, the one I would like to have? Yeah, that one. I’ve lost a few friends and family this past six months and this leads to these thoughts. I don’t think I am morbid or obsessed; although some would argue otherwise. It’s just that I have stage IV cancer and these thoughts are just natural. Actually they feel ingrained in me. Thoughts sown by a frightening diagnosis with a dismal prognosis to accompany it. It’s really not as horrible as it sounds. These notions don’t scare me they just feel normal. For example, my husband and I often converse about my wishes (and his) in the event of my eventual demise with the frequency that most folks our age talk about retirement. We talk about retirement too but I think all can agree that none of us get out of this life with our earthly bodies intact. We just don’t. And facing my cancer has forced some literal “cryptic” thinking upon me.
As I look back over the last five years I find that my feelings have changed concerning not the end of my life, because that has been hashed and rehashed plenty, but more what will happen once I have breathed my last and my spirit has been freed to fly to the heavenly realms. What will happen to the body that has housed my soul these last 50 odd years or so. When I was first diagnosed, the news of my stage IV anal cancer was fresh and we thought my death was imminent my desires were clear. I blogged about it as I struggled to recover from my first rounds of treatment. I had cheated death, at least for the time being, or so it seemed, so I was comfortable in proclaiming, not so subtly, how I wanted things to be when I became extinct. I struggled with the lack of control I would have once I was actually gone. Ponder that a minute. You can have all the “last wishes” you want to have but in the end those around you can choose to do anything they want and there is not a damn thing you can do about it. You just have to trust the people you love and that love you back that they will honor your desires for your going out party. I don’t have to worry about that...at least I think I don’t so; I haven’t lost a wink of sleep over it. I was pretty insistent on where and how I was to be placed below terra firma back in 2010. Since those early days filled with turmoil, despair and panic I have calmed down considerably and have been lucky enough to have time to re-think some of my early decisions. I always thought I wanted to be buried in Wichita and have since changed my mind to be interred in my husband's hometown somewhere within the eight plots that his parents purchased just about five years ago. You may recall my response when they offered one to me as I recovered from first rounds of chemo when they were “babysitting” me once. I thought it was hilarious! Of course here I am now wanting one of those very plots so I can rest eternally next to my husband. On a side note, I want his plot to be on the end next to the road placing me to his left. My reasons being that first, that’s how we have always slept and second, as I am likely to go first I do not want a potential “second” wife horning in on my turf. I was here first. She can find her own burial plots! I also thought I wanted to be buried in my favorite old pair of “skinny” jeans. Now I think I would rather have a nice dress, maybe something in blue. Or maybe a nice pair of pajamas. I love my jammies. I mean, this is eternal rest here.
I often wonder why my husband isn’t “weirded out” when I brooch topics that concern how I want things to be. Maybe it’s because I do it pretty often. Maybe he does think it’s odd and just doesn’t say anything and let’s me plan and re-plan my funeral with what seems like peculiar regularity. I have discovered that a funeral has about as many details as a wedding. I took about a year to plan my wedding. As the bride, I sorted through all kinds of details. My dress, my bridesmaids, invitations, announcements, the cake, the reception. My dear husband remembers those planning days differently than me. As I planned he tried his best to match my steps much like a ballroom dance partner. I picked four bridesmaids he knew he had to find four groomsmen. I picked the tuxedo style and he just agreed. I changed my mind dozens of times over details and he just kept saying “You tell me what to do and I will do it.” He was true to his word. He showed up on what was definitely one of the most happy days of my life and did what I asked because he loved me. I’m sure he was in awe of what a whirlwind occurred from one simple question “Will you marry me?”
For sure there is one detail that has never changed with all my “celebration of life” plans. I do not want to be cremated. Nope. Not me. Not even a consideration. Something just bothers me about being incinerated. I don’t care if I am dead, it just doesn’t sit well with me. I have written it down of course, but you know I often wonder if my husband is taking mental notes when I change things up in my plans. I admit I look to him with the same love he professed in his proposal all those years ago as I wonder aloud “Will you bury me?”
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A lot of people feel that creamation is the ultimate way of saying 'FU' to cancer, but I'm with you, I'd prefer to avoid anything resembling the fires of hell, here on earth or otherwise.
I also like your deductive reasoning to pick the spot to keep your hubby's potential 2nd wife shoehorned out of the neighborhood- that's a good one and cracks me up. Having an 'exit plan' is a sure way to live a whole lot longer than you ever planned, so why not? Surprise everybody and live another 25 years!
I can picture you with a can of spray paint at the cemetery marking everybody's spot and putting names on the plots- that ought to freak out the rest of his family!
Comfy clothes a must- had a relative laid to rest in a nightgown she loved and another in the sweat shirt/pants that she was most comfortable in - including tennis shoes! Maybe one of the few perks of cancer- you CAN you plan your 'celebration of life' while those who succumb to an instant cardiac event never could plan their 'end of life event'. Even pick-out the music at church.
Morbid to some perhaps, but do it while you are of 'sound mind and body' and then you can forget about it and go on living your life.
MGBY,
John
Well I'll stop preaching now.
Hugs
Don
Since I'm so big on genealogy, I think it's important to leave a place, not just disappear into the wind. But that's me. One of my favorite discoveries in a graveyard once was the message on this gentleman's stone: "Thanks for stopping by". I found it warm, welcoming and comforting, and it made me wish I had known him.
Don
I wrote it after reading the obituary of my high school Home Ec teacher, while visiting my dad.... She was only 44. Cancer. Everyone and their dog--including my dad, attended. I cried so hard. I was sobbing...
. I remember the h.s. History teacher (and football coach) courting her (small town)..I attended their wedding; in the park-- with the red of the town. I remember, my first year out of h.s. Visiting. She was pregnant with their first child. And so excited...
"Ms. Lewin" went into social work a couple of years after I graduated. In her obituary, which was LONG, were accolades given to her for the many strides she made during her years as a Social worker, to change laws, in Oregon, to help children.
I remember the rules she taught us the four years I had her as a teacher---which I still use....
. She left behind three teenaged boys and, if course, her husband.
At that juncture un my life I had regrets in my "failures". Lack of accomplishment.bI was jaded from working in OB. Was I mean?? So as ai wondered, at the end if het obituary, while singing, "Who will go to MY funeral?"
. You ask, "Will You Bury Me?". I think, Michele, at that time, you and I won't care. We will be in the presence of God. At peace. And I can FINALLY ask God, "Lord, Just WHY did you create Fire Ants??!!" 😆...
Blessings to you, Michele, and to your husband.
P.S. Don't gave my contacts in. Pleas forgive typos!!