T here’s something I’d like to share with you. Just you and me. It’s something that would probably offend 90% of people, but I think you’ll get it. Should I? Yeah why not, alright.
Grief is selfish
No matter what you feel, or what society says about grief, this line is as true as ever. Grief is inherently selfish. Always has been and always will be.
Really?
Yeah, unfortunately. BUT, that’s not to say it’s bad (and certainly not to say we should grieve at all). Truth be told, eating is also inherently selfish, so there’s that to think about too.
BUT, the reason grief is selfish is a simple one: it doesn’t really help anyone else but yourself. Crying over the loss of a loved one or a friend doesn’t benefit them and, if anything, it may very well be the last thing they would want you to do. That’s, at least, how I feel about it.
Don’t mourn me (much)
I’ll say this now as an announcement to friends, families, whoever: don’t mourn me. I don’t want to be mourned. If anything, it’d be nice to be celebrated. I’ve had some really happy, people my age who have died. I’ve had really sad people my age die. And you know what they all have in common? None of them, and I mean none of them, would want their death or illness or whatever to cause other people pain. I am no different.
My will
Only a few months ago, my Dad raised the idea to my brother and I of getting a will. No, he did not coincidentally fill out an insurance policy that same week (thankfully this isn’t an Agathe Christie novel), but it was a good idea just to have something even if I am young and somewhat healthy.
It’s a tedious process. Took a couple of weeks of it sitting on the bench to actually pick it up and fill out the damn thing, but I did it. And it just so happened there was a section around special requests.
Now the basketball bit
Now, I don’t fancy being put in the ground (it’s expensive and I’m not there anymore so who cares), so being burnt at a million degrees sounds fine and I thought what better place to have my ashes sail into the wind than my favourite local basketball court, Parfrey.
There’s this little open storm drain/river type thing that runs parallel to the court which is an absolute pain when you miss a shot the wrong way and your ball is then raging down the river, but anyway. I could see my ashes being scattered into the wind, schoolkids and families looking on in awe.
“That’s the Veteran,” they’ll say.
“He’s a legend of these parts,” they’ll murmur.
I love basketball. I loved the time I spent with my friends playing it down at the local court. Celebrate it for me please?
Throw it to the wind
Why would I care what people do with my when I’m gone? Take the organs that work, save a life and don’t you dare cry about it. At my funeral, or wake, or whatever, I expect all my mates up there making as much fun of me next to my urn than they ever did in person. Ramp it up further even.
And when you’re done scattering my ashes into the wind, see how far you can throw that urn too. Maybe then I will get the chance to actually skydive without the thought giving me anxiety.
