By The Time The Embers Cool

I don't want to die, but when I do, I hope I go with dignity.

I've accepted that life is never perfect and that I'll probably die alone. I hope it doesn't deeply hurt the person who finds the body. I hope the organs are of some use. My body probably isn't the best temple for ransacking, but whoever can benefit from what's left is welcome to it.

I want my body cremated. Graveyards look good in movies, but in real life, are a waste of pasture land. If people read my saved pages, that's fine by me. I won't be a very private person when I'm dead. However, I think it will be better for all involved to reduce me to a happy memory by the time the embers cool. The dead are a nuisance when they linger.

On the other hand, I probably won't protest a statue in my honor.

The ones who will need looking after are the ones left behind. There will be tears I never expected. Some people are made that way--wired to cry at funerals the way some are wired to cry at weddings. Give them a hug for me.

Eat what's left in the fridge. Recycle the trash I didn't get around to dealing with. Take the clothes and guitar. If I go on the toilet, eating a sandwich--tell it like a funny story.

It's what I would've done.

But, for now, no worries. We'll deal with my dying when the time comes...and by "we," I, of course, mean "you." In the meantime, there's a lot to do and probably a couple good years left. I've just got to remember to look both ways before crossing the street.