I See My Own Funeral

When I die, I think my children will know the right spot in the forest for me. They will invite everyone they know. People they don’t know will appear, some of whom I haven’t seen in decades. They will all join together in digging a great pit. It will not be easy, but they will take turns.

Small children will dominate a crafts tent, where everyone will have a turn creating and preparing the memories they wish to burn with me. Older children and others will keep the sound of drums going all day and long into the night.

When the pit is deep enough, the pyre will be built. My body will be laid out, flowers over my eyes instead of coins, unread letters folded into my arms, flannel and torn blue jeans dressing me. My children will be smart enough to light the kindling in three places or more to get the fire going. They will remember me teaching them to do this, to build a strong, roaring fire by lighting flames that will feed off of one another, just as people feed off of each other’s passions.

Of course, not all of my body will be there. Some of me will be used for lifesaving organs, and some will be used for research or educational purposes. But even these parts I know will return to the ecosystem just as nature needs. I am an animal. I was born through animal evolution, I eat meat, I depend on the earth, and I reproduce more little primates to eat more food and breathe the air. When I die, my body will be eaten by the surviving populations of worms and microorganisms, feeding the cycle for future generations.

Once the fire gets going, the drumming may pause if the group wants to discuss their memories. I hope a wide range of people will be present. I hope they will feel a kinship with each other. I hope people who’ve never met each other before this night will find common ground. I hope the music will continue long into the night as the fire slowly but eventually burns out.

The people will have to share tents to pass the night. I hope people will remember how much they love each other at this time, and remember to make the most of their lives.

Everyone will have to pitch in to refill the pit in the morning. I assume this task will be the hardest, because it is early and everyone will have slept poorly (if at all). Sometimes people have to suffer for a greater good. My grave will only be marked with a tree planted in the refilled pit. I debate with myself about what kind of tree I want for this, but I’m leaning towards a black cherry. Symbolic cannibalism is the best cannibalism, and I want people to be motivated to come back and revisit often.

Living and/or biodegradable memorials only. Nothing made of stone or plastic, no stuffed toys or vases, candles are okay as long as they burn out and don’t have some sort of wasteful candle holder that will just become garbage. People can plant whatever they want near my tree, as long as it isn’t invasive.

Years later, the next loved one will be buried in this same forest, following a similar tradition, with their own input. The trees will be within sight of each other but not too close. Soon this forest will be known as the memorial forest, although our names can be forgotten, our bodies decomposed, our community and our life will go on here as part of an ecosystem rather than a selfish personality.