One of the most depressing aspects of getting old is the number of funerals you get to go to. I’m now the oldest person in my family so by rights I should be next in line to pop my clogs, hopefully well into the future. I’m making plans.
My partner and I are looking to seek lasting power of attorney if the time comes where we are no longer able to make decisions ourselves. This makes total sense, especially if the time comes when nothing makes sense. If I had my way, it would include the instruction to take me to Switzerland to end it all, if needs must because in our backward-thinking country we are not allowed to influence the time and date of our passing. As time passes by, it is less death that concerns me as everything that leads to it.
I’m making plans for my funeral too. Mine will be roughly as follows:
* There will be no religion.
* Smart dress will be forbidden.
* No flowers. (I will let you know where flower money should go at a later date.)
* I will choose the music. I went to a funeral where Nilsson’s Without You was played. It ruined the whole thing.
* The coffin will be the cheapest one available. Why ruin best wood if it’s just going up the chimney? It’s not as if I’ll know.
* That’s it.
Does that appeal to you? No, nor me. And just think: I wrote this in a moment of mental stability. How on earth would it read at a moment of real misery?
I wasn’t sitting around empty-headed at all the funerals I went to. I learned things to be used at my own big event. My dad’s funeral in Ottawa, for example, was as near funeral perfection as you can get; a celebration of the life of an incredible man. God never showed, which was helpful.
Hopefully, it’s some time off but I hope you get the drift.