A friend of mine and I were talking about our funerals. He said, “I want to be cremated and my ashes spread over Walmart. That way I know my daughters will visit me at least twice a week.”
I don’t want to be maudlin but these things need to be planned. I certainly don’t want a viewing. A bunch of people, some I wouldn’t even like so much staring at me? No thanks. I’m going to be cremated with my ashes put in etch-a-sketch toys for the grandkids. They can play with Papa whenever they want.
I want to have a celebration service where people are only allowed to get up and talk about funny things we did together. I’ll close the show with my stand up comedy DVD. I know! The perfect ending!
I’ll be starting a wonderful eternity anyway, so why cry about it? No sir, not for me. I want to go out fast like getting hit by a meteor or maybe a comet. Anything that will send me off without warning. Like maybe my Mother-in-law’s meatloaf. That would do it.