Now a few words about my death (not imminent, hopefully!)

Some people spring clean. I’m more of a fall cleaner. Spring, I want to be outside planting and nurturing. Fall, I want to be inside, getting things prepared for the hibernation of winter.

With that in mind, I’ve started tackling the mountain of paperwork in my office — paperwork associated with the death of My Favourite Husband (MFH). Most things that needed to be taken care of have been over the past year. What’s left is the sorting and the shredding; what needs to be kept and what’s good to go.

As I am going through it all, I came across receipts for MFH’s funeral arrangements. While we have wills in place when it came to final arrangements, we both left most of the decisions to the surviving partner, which meant if we died together, no one would really have a clue what the hell to do with us.

I sifted through the funeral home contract and costs, and the receipts for the rental hall and caterer. I smiled when I thought about what I had planned and, while I’ll never know for sure, I’d like to think he’d be happy with what I did.

This paperwork was making me think about someone reviewing the paperwork for my own final arrangements and deciding what I may or may not want.

I’d like a nice lunch and a small gathering of people. That was a running joke with MFH and me. It stemmed from the fact that, at my Dad’s funeral, egg salad and tuna bunwiches were served along with powdered orange juice and coffee courtesy of the ladies of the church. I do not want bunwiches. I want people to be properly fed. I will haunt anyone who denies my mourners a proper lunch. Don’t make me haunt you.

I’d like a simple graveside service. The plot has been purchased. The headstone is in place. All anyone has to do is have a hole dug and my “end date” inscribed. You can have a minister or not. I really don’t care either way. I’m dead, remember. Say a few words. Say nothing. Remember, my physical remains are going to be in an urn in the earth but my soul, my spirit and my energy are in your hearts and minds.

After the lunch, I think a nice tribute to me would entail everybody hitting a pool for an aquafit class. Please wait for two hours after eating before doing this. Work hard. Have fun.

Ultimately, though, I’d like for the person going through receipts to smile as they do and to have made whatever decisions they thought was the best way to remember me.

❤️