I think about death often. Not in a bad way, but in a curious, insightful, peering around the corner sort of way. Recently a friend told me they rarely think of death, and this astounded me. I thought everyone had it on the brain at least daily. Perhaps I am the oddball here, but hell we already knew that. Maybe it is my raging case of anxiety that leads me to ponder the grim, dreary topic. Or could it be that thinking about death helps calibrate my mind to be more present and enjoy the moment? I will leave that for you to decide, kind reader.

It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live.

Marcus Aurelius

If you ever got caught in someone’s room when you were not supposed to be in there, and you hid in the closet, and you witnessed someone getting taken out, would you watch it go down? I bet you my first born you would. We all would watch. Death is a fascinating phenomenon.

Funeral Dinners, Eyepatches, and Too Many Damn Questions

My main thoughts about death revolve around what happens next. I am not talking about what happens to me after death per say, but more about what happens to the others around. How will people react? What happens to my family? What will the takeaways be from my time with them? Will they miss me? Will I miss them? Will I even know that it happened? Will it all have been worth it? Will they remember me years down the road? Will the thought of me make them giggle or cringe?

Side note – This explains why The Leftovers is one of my favorite shows of all time. Check it out if you can wiggle some time out of your busy schedule.

Many people in my life have left this world too soon, hopefully on to brighter and better paths in the afterlife. My extended family has exceeded the normal amount of cancer diagnoses, seriously, we are oddly numb to it at this point. I have been getting familiar with the Grim Reaper since I was a tot – whether it be helping out with funeral dinners, volunteering at the hospital, or being an administrative, underaged assistant to my grandmother who took a retirement gig at a cemetery – it all has shaped me into the gloomy, melancholy, yet hopelessly optimistic human that I claim to be. In fact, I ask for the gloom sometimes, coaxing my brother to tell me a tale or two of his experiences as a nurse in the ICU (I heard a gory tale the other day, but I will spare you the deets), reading Stephen King as if my life depended on it, and becoming enthralled with scary stories or bloody flicks (currently I am watching The Knick; absolutely amazing show).

I have an idea of when this demise will happen for me, but I will hold off on sharing since that could be too spooky for people. I know what you are thinking, but no, you are not correct – I did not meet the live-version of the witch from Big Fish, and she did not open up her eyepatch, and I did not see the vision of how I get off’ed. In a weird way, I have always had a lingering feeling about when it will happen, a tickle of the mind that will not go away, and I always go with my Spidey senses.

Party On, Wayne

When I go, this is what I want. My steadfast husband already knows this (I think), but now I am holding everyone who is reading this accountable for executing the vision.

1. No funerals, only celebrations.
2. Gut-punching, soul-opening music. Maybe a live band? Music is life. This year I started jotting down The Soundtrack of My Life in a list on my phone. So far I have three songs. I will have to update this, or make a playlist. But if I go before my list is complete, just play one of my Spotify playlists, preferably Soul Men or Misery Loves Comfort and Ambition. I listen to sad music on the regular; any of my playlists are funeral, er, I mean, party-ready.
3. Delicious food. Preferably all of the snacks I love in life – potato chips microwaved with two slices of American cheese, one in the middle of the chips, one on the top (Frank calls this meal Nachos Jamie, and I dig it. I would wager that this delectable dish has at least three of the five food groups, and it really soothes the stomach if you eat it after three or four beers and at the midnight hour, binge-watching tv), definitely toss in some medium-rare filet mignons with sautéed mushrooms, medium-rare hamburgers with garlic aioli, mushrooms, and swiss cheese, French dips out the wahzoo, and last but not least, an array of noodle dishes from all over the world – Capellini with alfredo or butter sauce, Pad Thai, drunken noodles, lo mein, spätzle, mac and cheese, get it while it’s good. This list contains a plethora of red meat, I know, but the vegetarians (who I love and respect) can get down on the chips with cheese, the noodles, and the mushrooms. Make it all salty. If you already added salt, add some more, and if you cannot remember if you added more, sprinkle on some additional granules to be on the safe side. Maybe have a veggie tray there too; life is all about balance.
4. No sermon, no church, no building (unless it is adorned in art). Do it outside, do it in June or September.
5. No funeral clothing, unless said threads are comfortable, which they usually are not. Wear (or do not wear) what you want to wear. For example, I have read that not wearing a bra provides ample health benefits. Prove it. I also know that sweatpants and a t-shirt are the remedy for any sad moment in life.
6. Zero obligations. Make it a drop-in, stop-in, have a beer, stay awhile if you want, leave early if you want, kind of thing. Hell, stay at home and do not even attend if it ends up being too much trouble. The only people who have to rough it for the entire seven-day duration (that is how long this party will go, in alignment with how many days I dedicate to celebrating my birthday each year) are my family members who will be forced to set up this wacky event.
7. Spend nothing on the disposal of my body. Donate it to science, where it belongs. Too much time and resources are wasted on burials and cremations. Go eco-friendly, and allow those genius scientists a real body to dissect, experiment on, and learn from. My real hope is that I can still provide learning to people even when I am not around.
8. Refrain from being sad. If I leave this world in the next year, day, hour, minute, second, please know that I have had the best time ever. Life has been so glorious. I would not change anything, other than the fact that I never was able to attend a dog show. Fret no more, I will be coming back as a dog, and I will get to do all the things at that time.

Reflections From the Mudbath

What went well: My best friend had her going away party; new chapters rock.

What could have gone better: I am finally coming to terms with the fact that my best friend is leaving Colorado. I could have done this sooner.

What will I do differently tomorrow: I should have read more today. Instead, I went to the thrift store and got about twenty articles of clothing for tie-dye. Tomorrow I will think about tie dye…and my friend who is leaving Colorado…and…death.

Listening to: Out of the Blue – George Harrison. My favorite Beatle, and quite possibly one of the best albums of all time. All Things Must Pass. ✌️

Reading: The Institute – Stephen King. Enough said. Soaking it up.

“Live a good life. If there are gods and they are just, then they will not care how devout you have been, but will welcome you based on the virtues you have lived by. If there are gods, but unjust, then you should not want to worship them. If there are no gods, then you will be gone, but will have lived a noble life that will live on in the memories of your loved ones.”

Marcus Aurelius