Sunday, 20 May 2018

Some very morbid plans.

Does anyone else ever think about how they’re going to die? Or maybe, what will happen when they’re dead? Just me? Okay then…

I’ve been thinking about it quite a bit, after my last appointment with my wonderful neurosurgeon. He confirmed that I am still stable (yay!) and then said, quite confidently, that he thinks it’s more likely I’ll pass away due to old age, rather than my t-word finishing me off. 


(Photo: Erin Veness)


I was stunned. I hadn’t realised just how many bets I’d put on my wee brain bugger creeping up on me in later life; I’d always thought it would come back with a vengeance and finish what it started back in 2014 (then attempted to continue in 2015). I’d actually taken some comfort in knowing what it would be – much like that funny 2003 film, ‘Big Fish’, in which a tiny Ewan McGregor gets a prophecy from Helena Bonham-Carter in her seemingly eternal witchy form, and learns what will kill him, then lives the rest of his life in complete confidence because he knows what’s gonna get him in the end.

But now...it could be anything. I mean, I can of course hope that I leave this messed up planet at a good time, preferably in a totally painless way, when I’m totally fulfilled and satisfied with the life I’ve lived. Maybe when I’m having an afternoon nap on my sofa, in my modest town house in Winchester, where I’ve returned to for a quiet but creative retirement. The cats will cuddle up with me, and I’ll be found by my neighbours when they pop by for our usual Wednesday evening gin-tasting session out on my terrace. 

(Photo: Erin Veness)


Anyway, in case there’s a Final Destination-style freak accident or I contract yet another mysterious illness (v likely, with my record) before then, perhaps this blog post will help my friends and family out when they’re arranging my magnificent send-off…?

I want to be burned. That’s for sure. Being buried in a church yard terrifies me, plus I’d hate to be trampled by hikers or peed on by dogs...although I’d love to have aspiring authors come across my headstone and use my name for a character in their debut novel!?

I’d like my ashes to be scattered somewhere cool. I’m not sure what would be ‘my place’ just yet, but maybe if possible my family could fly with the Dead Grace Dust out to Australia and throw it into the sea off Burleigh Point? Or maybe if you guys are on a budget, the West Hill in Hastings will do. Oh, but it’ll have to be on the May bank holiday, during the Jack in the Green celebrations. The hippies will love it! Just don’t let them smoke or snort me...

I want my jewellery to be shared out among my very best friends. Floop can have my clear quartz necklace, and Grandma’s knick knacks I inherited. The parents can take my ‘showy’ raw crystal pieces, the ones I keep on my window sill in my childhood bedroom (or, in the future, the ones that will decorate my plush seaside apartment in Hove).

(Photo: Erin Veness)


Sophia and Rosie get custody of my cats. Clare gets my books – and can distribute the ones she doesn’t want in as many Bexhill charity shops or libraries or schools she fancies. Louise (and, I guess, Ryan) can have my laptop, my phone...and any kids I end up making. Maddie can have my notebooks, my clothes – so she can cut them up and make freaky costumes – and my gigantic toy Stitch (also, a team of you gals will have to find and destroy the contents of my Sexy Drawer, please and thank you).

Finally, I would like a casual, brightly coloured memorial service with absolutely no religious affinities. Nobody is allowed to wear black. And when my body enters the building (in a bio-degradable coffin, painted in fabulous metallic colours by my friends and family) I will need ‘The Greenest Grass’ by Joshua Radin to play. Then halfway through the cheery service – the far from final celebration of me – I think it’s only right to play ‘Amazing Grace’, but in a funky remixed way, with a sick beat. And finally, as I am pushed into the fire or whatever happens when a service ends and the curtains are ominously drawn, I need ‘Body in a Box’ OR ‘Hello, I’m in Delaware’ by City and Colour to play and I want everyone to raise a shot of whisky to me as it plays. 


(Photo: Erin Veness)


Okay so, that’s all I’ve got for now. What about you, lovely readers? Any specific plans for your departure from this earth? How do you want to be remembered? 
Comment or tweet me if you’re feeling as morbid as I am! 

2 comments

  1. I think about it a lot, mainly since a lot of people around me have died. I don't get a lot of understanding, so it was refreshing to read your blogpost.

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    Replies
    1. I'm always here for any and all conversations about death! *hugs*

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