Oh, What to Wear, What to Wear...

My Readers: So, Bou, what did you do today?

Bou: Well, today I sat in my car running carpools, thinking about what I want to wear to MY funeral.

Yes, it is true. See, J. was a mother of boys and a very casual person like me. Where I spend most of my time in shorts and a t-shirt, she spent all her time in stretch pants and big t-shirts. She never looked slovenly, but very casual. Unlike me, however, she was never required to go places nice, nor did she want to. In essence, the old adage, “Oh! But I have nothing to wear” directly applies here. My friends have been going through her closet trying to find something appropriate and have found nothing… so one of them went out and bought her something last night. She went to the mall and purchased J. an outfit to wear to her funeral.

As my Mother said, “How sad that she finally got something new, but has to wear it at her funeral.” Yeah, that about sums it up.

So today my mind has been wandering… do I want to be cremated? If I die young, where do I want my body or ashes? Do I want them sent to The Great Omnipotent One’s family’s plot or here? If they keep my carcass here, nobody will visit as my husband’s family cemetery is way out in the sticks. We’ve been to his Mother’s grave twice in five years. The third will be Saturday as it’s the same cemetery as J. is being buried.

If I were to die young, my husband would remarry. He may think he would not, but he would. You have to meet my husband to understand why. (Think Al Pacino from Godfather Part I. Think Andy Garcia with a very slight dash of George Clooney.) Every woman who is single in Palm Beach County, and maybe some married ones too, would be beating down his door before I was even cold, to get their hands on him. Eventually he would succumb to some woman’s wily ways and then he’d be stuck with this double plot with my body or ashes in it. Then of course his new wife sure as hell wouldn’t want him buried with his old wife, so… that has been my train of thought.

If I die young, I think I need to go to Birmingham. Ashes or body. I can’t decide. But as of now, I am leaning towards ashes.

Can you imagine being an alien from outer space and saying to a human, “So, what do you do with your dead?” and the answer is, “Oh… well… we preserve our dead bodies then we stick them in the ground or in a vault. Forever.” Truly, what an incredibly bizarre ritual we have established. This preserving and keeping of something that is no longer useful.

What I really really want is a big frickin’ floating funeral pyre. Put my body on a big wooden raft, shove it out to sea and light it. A good old fashioned Viking funeral. But I think the EPA would have issues with that, as well as every other governmental group that has an ‘A’ at the end of it.

Eh, so I’m back to square one. I do know that either way, I do not want my girlfriends or mother or sister rummaging through my clothes thinking “Holy crap, lion tours, this girl has NOTHING to wear!” I’ve thought about my Karate gi, but I think my husband would not be happy.

I’m thinking, I’m thinking. I know, it sounds twisted, but I think it is part of my grieving process. Putting me in her shoes and making sure I tie up these loose ends.

Right now I’m leaning towards either my red suit (I look good in red) or my royal blue dress. But I think the royal blue dress may be too clingy. I love black… but that’s what everyone else would be wearing and I don’t want to look like everyone else.