Death isn't a subject that we avoid around here, but we don't always bring it up, either. And when we do approach the subject, it's usually because one of the little ones has asked about death and dying, or they've mentioned how much they don't want to die. My standard response is to tell my child that usually, people don't want to die, but that everyone will at some point. Which of course, takes us to talking about Doctor Who and the power of regeneration and then, the deep moment has passed and we're on to the awesomeness that is science fiction.
However, after a trip to a small town in southern Illinois for a family reunion, my mind wandered to memories of my grandparents, who are buried there, and to my parents, who want to be buried there. All sorts of questions popped into my head: Where do I want to be buried? Do I want to be buried? Is cremation a better option? Or should I donate my body to science, like Tim wants to?
"I think I'll be buried around X," I said to Tim. "It's the kids' hometown, after all."
"Whatever you want," he answered. "Just don't expect something fancy. Maybe a cardboard box that they can all color on."
By they, he meant the kids. And clearly, Tim knows his kids, because a cardboard box is a fantastic idea. I mulled the thought over in my head, envisioning a medium cardboard coffin with crayon and marker drawings all over it. A smile spread across my face. A serious smile. Because even though we were talking about death, the concept of the cardboard box felt so right.
"Or, you could be made into a diamond, you know," Tim went on.
"Do they do that?" I asked.
"Yeah, haven't you read about that?"
"No, but how big of a diamond could I become?" I said.
Truly, I wondered how much carbon was in my body, and knowing that I'm on the small side, how big could the resulting diamond be? Could all four kids have a piece of diamond as a keepsake? Would they want me lurking for eternity around their necks?
Tim didn't miss a beat. NOT ONE BEAT, before he stated, "I don't know. Big enough for my next girlfriend."
I snorted, laughing until a tear ran down my cheek, and realized, once again, what a gem of a man I had chosen.
However, after a trip to a small town in southern Illinois for a family reunion, my mind wandered to memories of my grandparents, who are buried there, and to my parents, who want to be buried there. All sorts of questions popped into my head: Where do I want to be buried? Do I want to be buried? Is cremation a better option? Or should I donate my body to science, like Tim wants to?
"I think I'll be buried around X," I said to Tim. "It's the kids' hometown, after all."
"Whatever you want," he answered. "Just don't expect something fancy. Maybe a cardboard box that they can all color on."
By they, he meant the kids. And clearly, Tim knows his kids, because a cardboard box is a fantastic idea. I mulled the thought over in my head, envisioning a medium cardboard coffin with crayon and marker drawings all over it. A smile spread across my face. A serious smile. Because even though we were talking about death, the concept of the cardboard box felt so right.
"Or, you could be made into a diamond, you know," Tim went on.
"Do they do that?" I asked.
"Yeah, haven't you read about that?"
"No, but how big of a diamond could I become?" I said.
Truly, I wondered how much carbon was in my body, and knowing that I'm on the small side, how big could the resulting diamond be? Could all four kids have a piece of diamond as a keepsake? Would they want me lurking for eternity around their necks?
Tim didn't miss a beat. NOT ONE BEAT, before he stated, "I don't know. Big enough for my next girlfriend."
I snorted, laughing until a tear ran down my cheek, and realized, once again, what a gem of a man I had chosen.
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