My Last Wishes

I was a young boy when my grandparents passed away.  Until Grampa Tony died I never had to think about death and dying.  Emotions welled up inside me.  Unfamiliar emotions I couldn’t identify, that I didn’t understand.  So confusing.  So many things I didn’t understand.

Because of Gramma’s poor health, Grampa was laid out in the living room.  My bedroom was just off the living room, and I could see the flickering candles around Grampa’s casket reflected in the mirror on the door.  I was saddened at the loss of my loving grandfather, and I was frightened by the painted corpse in the next room.  Grief and guilt competed for my attention.

Grampa’s steel coffin was sealed into a concrete vault and buried in St. Adelbert’s Cemetery.  At the time I thought nothing of it; it was just the way things were done.  Later, after I had thought about it, I wondered why we go to so much trouble to keep the body from decomposing naturally.   The decomposition must take way longer than necessary because of the metal coffin and concrete.

Cremation, it seemed to me, made more sense.  It takes up less space, and the ashes can returned to the Earth.  Now I have another, better, idea.  Human Composting.  Not only a better idea, but less expensive too.  It’s an internment with a legacy.

Here’s how it would work:  my meat suit, after I no longer need it, is put into a large paper bag, the kind used for leaves and lawn clippings.  The bag is then buried in some appropriate, convenient location, and a tree or bush is planted over the remains.  The legacy part depends on what is planted.  For example, if an apple tree was planted, my spirit could experienced as an apple.  Or, if cannabis was planted, I could be smoked.

These are my last wishes, if they are not carried out: Beware the wrath of a vengeful ghost!