My dead body

I’ve long known that when I die, I want to be cremated. It doesn’t make sense to me to take up space in the ground of our already crowded Earth. As a matter of fact, I’d rather not have my remains contained to an urn, either. I’ve already asked my three sons to divide my ashes into 3 vessels (Ziploc, Tupperware, whatever) which they are to use to transport me to my favorite places – Greenwood Lake, the Hudson River and the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Wellfleet, MA. Upon arrival, and probably under cloak of darkness, they are to scatter my physical remains. I hope my sons do it together and make a road trip out of it – maybe with a special play list.

The other night, as I was dozing off, I decided that post-organ donation and prior to cremation, I’d like to donate my body to science. That sounds kind dramatic, doesn’t it? That’s not my intention, what I mean is that I’d like to give medical students the opportunity to dissect and study my body. Not because I’m some phenomenal physical specimen, but because I think I’d like for my body to be appreciated and respected for all the wonderful and challenging experiences it has had during my years of living.

Don’t you think it’s fascinating how much can be gleaned about a person’s life by their body? The scars we each bear are evidence of traumas we have faced and survived, some minor and others graver. The condition of our muscles speaks of their strength, a woman’s pelvic cartilage may reveal the number of children she birthed, and our teeth provide evidence of our overall health and diet. I just find it all so much more interesting than any graveside service could possibly be!

No rush, though. I’ve got a few more scars to collect before I’m ready to go.