Thursday, 14 November 2013

I don't wanna be buried

I don't wanna be buried. I don't want my son paying for an alarm device sitting on my tombstone. For him to wake up to a text when some freak decides to steal the vase of flowers he lovingly bought and brought to that morbid place called the cemetery. I don't want him ever having to debate with himself whether he is neglecting his mother by not going to her grave. 
There is absolutely nothing peaceful or calming about a cemetery(to me)...though it does beat a mortuary on the morbidity scale...its still pretty sad...or freaky...or other emotions not usually associated with happiness. Some people say they find solace in visiting where they buried their loved ones. The final resting place of the decomposed body they once loved.

I want my ashes scattered in the ocean. Preferably in Santa Maria. A charming little island off the coast of Mozambique. There's a stretch of beach where if you stand there, you can see the mainland, the sea and the ocean in one sweep of the eye. 
Absolutely beautiful place with Nemo-like coral reefs and actual playing dolphins that do that jumping outta the water without being prompted. I want to be scattered there. My mom says tradition won't allow such. I don't see tradition serving me in anyway now, so it has no say in how I want MY body disposed.
It will probably be very cost effective AND he can sommer take a healing holiday when he goes to throw my ashes into the eternity of the ocean. 

So wherever Renda goes in the world, he can choose to believe my ashes got there. Cos fact is, I will be with him in his heart always. And also with you if you choose to have me.

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