Granny's gone and done it again

I guess I am just weird because I talk about death a lot. I want everyone to know what I want and where I want my stuff to go. I am always asking my daughter do you want this? If not I figure I can get rid of it.
I think ultimately to know your wishes makes it easier for everyone. One day they will be going through a terrible loss and having all the end of life decisions already made will be less stress for them. It's a gift.
 
My mom made it very clear to me how a person is creamated. It wasnt pretty but I know she told the truth. When I scattered my step fathers ashes out in the backyard it wasnt just ashes.
You mean that you are burned to ash and bone?
 
gonna give me nightmares blue!
Granny, I guess what I'm saying is, talking about death won't make him die any sooner. It's like planning for a trip you know you're going to take some day, but you don't know when. Say you want to go to Paris some day. You think about it. You plan. But you know you don't have the money and won't for years. But it doesn't hurt to think about it. That's all he's doing. The more he thinks about it, the less scary it is. That's what I think anyway. Or maybe he's just trying to get a rise out of you, and succeeding.
 
My mom made it very clear to me how a person is creamated. It wasnt pretty but I know she told the truth. When I scattered my step fathers ashes out in the backyard it wasnt just ashes.
I know.
 
Granny, I guess what I'm saying is, talking about death won't make him die any sooner. It's like planning for a trip you know you're going to take some day, but you don't know when. Say you want to go to Paris some day. You think about it. You plan. But you know you don't have the money and won't for years. But it doesn't hurt to think about it. That's all he's doing. The more he thinks about it, the less scary it is. That's what I think anyway. Or maybe he's just trying to get a rise out of you, and succeeding.
He is trying to prepare me.
 
Where I want to be scattered is at the edge of the forest. We call it the jungle. It's knee deep in leaves and scrub. Nobody will see anything and in a year the wind and weather and chickens will scatter everything. My remains will truly have returned to be one with nature.
 

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