First, you might not be comfortable with reading this, but sooner or later (and we all hope later it is), we will be called to the “other side.”
Based on our religions and assorted fantasies, we all have some sort of idea of what that involves. Go with your favorite; it doesn’t matter.
But it’s never too early to plan how your remains will be disposed of. Oh! Did you think a truck comes for them? Get real.
She and I, reasonably healthy and active, have discussed it, and have picked a plan. Still reading? OK.
There will be no 10 grand solid oak box with imported brass handles lowered into a hole and covered with dirt for yearly visits, or flags on Memorial Day and wreaths at Christmas.
And I’m sorry to say there will be no paid mourners at 20 bucks apiece handed out by my daughters.
We’re not there, you got that? We’re not there. I don’t know where we’ll be, but it won’t be on Grove Street.
The internet is abuzz with alternative choices. Here’s one we read about.
We were sitting in the dentist office and She picked this magazine and pointed.
“Whatya think?” She whispered.
It’s called “The patented Living Urn® BioUrn® and Planting System.”
You writing this down?
Your “designated handlers” place your cremated remains in the BioUrns, add an additive on top (She insists on low fat), mix it all together like they’re making coffee cake and plant it in the ground. Is that the coolest thing you’ve ever heard of?
The next step is up to you. Or if you slip into eternity while watching “Jeopardy!,” your loved ones can do it.
If you have no “loved ones,” you just have to leave the instructions and 20 bucks to a paid mourner. Most of us have someone, even a barista you used to tip heavily.
That person will have to order it.
It’s like getting shoes or pizza on Amazon, and it will be shipped in two or three days, unless there’s a strike.
It all comes with instructions. The company is on an ad called “The Living Urn.” Look it up.
There’s the problem. What if one of you decides to hang around for another couple of days?
This can be a problem. Remember the arguments you had over the wallpaper for the living room, or the color of the tile for the bathroom?
What if she wants to be a Maine pine and I want a palm?
Solved. I remember a tree on a street where I walked the dogs in Hancock Park in Los Angeles. Its leaves picked up the light from the adjoining street lamp, and they just glowed. It was called a ginkgo tree.
That’s my choice.
The ginkgo is the sole survivor of an ancient group of trees that date back to before dinosaurs.
It’s so ancient the species is known as a “living fossil.”
Fossils of ginkgo leaves have been discovered that date back more than 200 million years, like Betty White or Larry King.
She agrees. We’re going ginkgo, and planting it in Castonguay Square.
Drop by anytime and wave.
J.P. Devine is a Waterville writer.
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