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The End Is Near?

 

 

My power of attorney is done.  My will is done.  Am I ready to die?  I’m not planning on it, but you never know.  I could go to a doctor for some reason, and he or she could kill me—accidentally of course.  Or I could get hit by a truck delivering health food.  Or I could perform standup comedy and die on stage.  Who knows?

Death fascinates me.  I love walking through cemeteries, reading the residents’ tombstones, and reflecting on their lives.  What were their concerns?  What made them happy?  What made them sad?  Did they know that a tombstone would grow after they were planted?  Did they know that one day, long after they were gone, someone would be reflecting on their lives?

I want to be planted so a tombstone will grow.  I like the idea of someone reflecting on my life long after I am gone.

When I was in my teens, I played with a Ouija board.  The Ouija board said that I would die during the first week of August in 2018.  If the Ouija board is right, then I have just over a year left.  Am I worried?  Not yet, but ask me again on July 31, 2018.

 

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Power of Attorney

 

It is done.  My daughters have powers of attorney.  They can act on my behalf should I become incapacitated. If they decide to leave me hooked up to machines, then that’s okay.  If they decide to pull the plug, then that’s okay.

“But what do you want, Dad?” they ask.

“I want you to do whatever will make you feel better.  That’s what I want.”

The same thoughts apply to my funeral.  I have certain wishes, but they are only guidelines and do not have to be followed.  My daughters have to carry on without me.  If my funeral wishes make them uncomfortable, then they can change them and not feel guilty.

I have mentioned before how a deceased’s funeral arrangements have caused his or her loved ones more stress.  They don’t agree with the arrangements, but go along with them out of guilt.  For example, no sadness or crying.  The loved ones try hard not to be sad and cry, but cannot help breaking down.  And then they feel guilty.  Why not allow our loved ones to grieve the way that makes them feel better?

It’s okay for sadness and crying at my funeral.  (The income tax people will be weeping the most.  Another taxpayer bites the dust.)  It’s okay for joy and laughter.  Anything goes.  It is a FUNeral.  I won’t care because I will be too busy trying to dodge the huge flames.

A long time ago I made a deal with Fate.  It was so long ago that I don’t remember the terms of the deal, but I embrace these terms no matter what they are.