Dad doesn't want all the chemical processing, the embalming, done to his corpse. I get that. Mom, so typically, doesn't want to take up space somewhere.
My grandparents are all buried near my parents' hometown several hundred miles away. Visiting tombs of people I know just hasn't been a part of my life. I do understand it though. A place and structure set aside, a representation and remembrance, a small piece of relative permanence.
Even without much of a personal connection (or perhaps because of it), cemeteries have always appealed to me. I like sculptural tombstones, geometric rows, dates that signify history, and the peaceful quiet.
I used to want some big, cool sculpture for my grave marker, but now I consider that to be a manifestation of my unfulfilled desire to sculpt stone. I'd rather create something myself and have it sit in a park somewhere.
Having seen my share of Six Feet Under, I don't particularly want to be embalmed, but cremation doesn't quite hit me right either. A funeral pyre set afire on a boat shoved out to sea: cool; an oven, not so much. Too many logistics and legalities to hope for a flaming boat, I reckon though. If the funerals I've attended have taught me anything, it's that my own will be out of my hands.
One year ago at TTaT: Did you say something?
tags: cremation, funerals, cemeteries, tombstones