When I'm Gone

I know it's a bit early in life for me to think about what will happen to me when I'm gone. But as I approach the age of 40—orphaned, childless, perpetually single—I wonder whose shoulders my disposal shall fall on. I wonder what legacy I'll leave behind. I wonder whose burden I'll be.

I know that I want it to be simple, and not expensive. I know that I want to give back to the earth, after a lifetime of taking away from it.

My body is just a vessel. It's not who I am.

When I'm gone, don't try to preserve me.
Let me sink into the earth.

Don't pump me with chemicals.
Don't plump my sunken face.

Harvest me for whatever is valuable
and then let my body rot, and turn me into a tree.

Bury me green,
in a box of pine, only if you have to.

Dance on my grave.
Play music, laugh, and get drunk.

Bury me with cats and bunnies and turtles
and all other creatures that were treasured and adored.

Or cremate me,
and mix my ashes with glitter.

Freeze-dry me and bury me shallow,
where I'll become the soil of my own garden.

Don't spend a lot of money.
Don't try to keep me around.

When I'm gone,
I'm gone.

I won't come back,
so let me go.

Don't delay the inevitable.
Just let me be.

Remember me by living well,
and feeling like you're done when you're gone.

Further Reading:
Freeze-drying the dead could help save the planet (WiredUK)
Joshua Tree Memorial Park
Green Burial Council
Natural Grace Funerals
Gan Eden Green Burial at Hillside Memorial Park