...And Then, There's Death (Written 2008)

I'm laying here on the couch listening to my hippie music and contemplating life. Well, to be more accurate, death. I have no idea why 60's - 70's music makes me delve into the darker side of life, it just does. I think the music of Jim Croce, Dan Fogelberg, Cat Stevens, Bob Seger, The Eagles, The Hollies, Bread, ect... does something lethargic to my brain waves.

I've always known I wouldn't live to be old. I'm not sure if I ever told the story, but I can remember being a little girl and being with my mother in a department store watching an old lady ahead of us. Mom must have noticed my studying the woman because she commented that one day, I would be just like that old woman. I calmly turned to my mother, promptly informing her how wrong she was because I'd never live to be that old. I wasn't trying to freak her out (although I did) and I wasn't being pessamistic, I just simply knew in my heart I would never reach that age and I wasn't afraid of it. It wasn't much later after that that I did get afraid of death. Actually, traumatized was more like it. I thought about it, lived it, breathed it, dwell on it to a point that I believe my mom was about to get me mental therapy, but suddenly, I was over it and all was back to normal.

During that traumatic stage, I went through a fear of burning to death and so, every night, without fail, I would make a sweep through the house, unplugging everything I could find, including my mom's coffee pot that she had set to automatically brew her coffee the next morning. I can definitely remember getting talked to over that. You don't mess with some people and their coffee. I also went through the coming home and checking every nook and cranny in the house to make sure that, while we were away, some killer hadn't crept into the house to do us off, one by one, while we slept at night.

I still, sometimes make the "search for the killer" sweep through my home. I guess it is just a fear I can't get rid of. Same as checking my vehicle from back to front and below before I climb into it whether it is daylight or dark. You never know who may be waiting for you to return, right? Does all this make me neurotic?? It may, but at least I won't be surprised.

I've decided I want to be cremated. I don't want to be placed in a box and put underground to rot. It doesn't appeal to me. Just burn me and get it over with. I can see the irony of the cremation thing and the fear of burning I had as a child. Yes, it is odd I would chose that same method to exit this Earth, but then again, I am odd. Still, I want to be placed in an urn, but not just any urn, I want a big, yellow, smiley face urn so that when people see it, they'll smile. Well, at least for a little while until they remember a corpse is in it. Seriously, I like to make people laugh, so this urn is perfect for me. I like it.

I don't want visitations or a funeral either, I want a wake. A fun one. I want a black spiritual choir to sing loud praises, clapping, stomping their feet, enjoying life - why mourn me? I'm in Heaven. Actually, I am probably going to be right there clapping, stomping and singing right along with the lot of you. I love a party! My mom is doubtful a person's passing can be joyous, but I told her she's wrong and to prove it, just invite all my enemies, I'm sure they'll lead the choir in joyful noises! I don't care, fly paper airplanes and eat Pringles & pop open a beer -- live dang it! You need to smile and I'll be right there with you, so make it a celebration. I want it that way.

I also want a Memory Book passed around and I'd love to have the people attending my wake to write down a little memory of us together, just so my family can read it. They could use a good laugh afterward. It all should be memorable.


This is my Obituary I received from the website: http://www.crucifictiongames.com/rogd.html (Don't bother, the site is no longer there. *Sigh*)

We regret to announce the untimely passing of Victoria, who on the 3rd of July of this year was callously crushed like a grape by an angry old woman. This unfortunate incident occurred in an anthill in Las Calamas, CA. The deceased was reported to have shouted "Not my new shirt!" just before expiring. Victoria is survived by several houseplants. Funeral services will be held the 4th of next month.