I like getting up early, 5:30 am-ish, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I’m productive at that time. I sit with my coffee, my 4-7-8 breathing, my journal and eventually WordPress and I chew the fat for hours some days.
I’m definitely not a get up and go type of person. It’s as though my body and brain need to get warmed up before they’ll set out for the day. Or maybe that’s what I’ve brainwashed myself…
No wait, what I wanted to talk about today was funerals. Bella-Lena and I had this conversation on Saturday afternoon. I said funerals are stupid.
She said what? I said I do not want a funeral, no thanks. I don’t understand the point. Huge waste of money just for people to gather and intentionally feel sad and cry.
And who are most of those people? People who were barely your friends. Someone you worked with three times seventeen years ago. Who cares.
Okay and even if we’re talking about your own being family there, why? Why do you want all of your family to gather and host an emotional (in a sad way) event like that?
It’s like the opposite of a birthday party. Someone’s died! You’re invited! There’s food! It’s going to be super mournful and grim! But please come!
It’s ridiculous.
Bella-Lena was so shocked over my passionate plea to NOT have a cry-fest party for me when I’m dead.
She said well what do you want then? Nothing to mark the occasion? I said no. Nothing. I want to be cremated and I want you kids to divvy up the ashes and keep me near you, in your homes. I want to live on your kitchen counter and I want you to talk to me while you’re cooking. Keep me with you. You four will talk about me, you will keep my memory alive. Not anybody else. Not the hundred and fifty people who show up to my funeral and feel sad for thirty seconds that I’m dead. My life was not lived for them anyway, it was lived for you, my four babies.
Happy Monday!
bloom.planted.north 
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