Our ashes can be shot into space, compacted into jewelry, or any number of outlandish things. My favorite form of body disposal only recently became available: your unembalmed corpse can can be bundled around a seedling and serve as fertilizer that will grow a great tree. Imagine a forest of the deceased, our lives marked by trees breathing in the sky, rather than a graveyard of dead stone. A lovely idea. I used to want this. All of that changed when I nearly died.
I have always been an organ donor, which is achieved as easily as checking a box on your driver's license. After I recovered from open-heart surgery I became a card-carrying member of the United Tissue Network.
That card is always in my wallet, next to my insurance card, just in case anything happens.
The UTN provides for the utility and disposal of "whole donors," those who elect to donate all of their flesh to one cause or another - including after the harvesting of any viable organs. What is left of one's cadaver after organ extractions is donated to whatever cause or organization, be it scientific or educational, that can make use of it. (Silvia has often told me how fortunate it was for the pre-med students when a torso was delivered.) When all use is depleted all remaining tissue is cremated at the organization's expense and then disposed of as so much garbage, which it is.
Not a penny of expense is passed on to an heir, loved one, or survivor.
Doesn't this deprive the bereaved of an opportunity to mourn? That depends on what your wishes are and whether or not they are respected.
No one has my blessing to hold any kind of ceremony or observance in my name upon my death.
Registry for the UTN requires the signatures of two people, which Silvia witnessed. Later, she asked me: what would you say to anyone who wants to show kindness to you after your death?
"I would say pay it forward to someone who is still alive."
The time to show regard for another human is while they are alive, not when they are dead.
Funerals are for the living, so please don't insult the memory of the dead by pretending they are done by the deceased's benefit.
Showing regard for another human before they are dead does not require demonstrative declarations of love and devotion. It is accomplished as simply as making someone a sandwich, checking on a friend, asking them out to coffee, or inviting them over for an evening of pizza, cheap wine, and DVDs.
Whatever you do, don't solicit the attention of another because you want to be checked on. Asking for help is fine and good, but don't cloak your needs in altruism; it is immediately transparent.
I am only in a position to give advice worth what is paid for it: naught. But this much I know: I lingered on the brink of death for so long that professionals appraising my medical records are astounded that I'm still alive. Also, my heart and lungs were stopped for five hours in hopes of keeping the reaper away. And after all that I honestly don't know that I'm out of the woods. Every loss I have suffered in this life has not thrown the profundity of mortality into a relief as sharp as seen by standing on the cusp of oblivion.
So yes, life is precious. It should be therefore valued in its presence, not absence.
We should stop feeding the Death Industry. We should instead focus on how many persons shuffle off this mortal coil without understanding how valuable they are to we who survive them.
I am not a model of this behavior. But I want to improve.
I start by saying this: no flowers, please. I won't smell them. Give them to another.
