We were talking today about death at work. A coworker's dad died not too long ago, and his brother recently got the ashes. It started an office conversation about how we want our bodies treated when we die.
Most of us, it seems, would like to be cremated. I can't decide if I like the idea of cremation or not. I like the idea of rotting and turning into dirt with plants growing out of me, but it seems like when you die now, you just turn to dirt in a sealed box and never get to be part of the earth around you.
So maybe cremation is the right thing to do if you want to be a flower one day.
If I really got to pick, though, I'd like to have a death like the husband in A Rose For Emily. I'd like my husband to sleep next to my rottening corpse every night.
He tried to talk me out of going to work this morning. If we weren't so broke, he could have convinced me. From being out of town and coming back to find him tattooing his head off, we haven't spent much time together. Compound our mutual business with the strays that have taken to living at our house, it's hard to have alone time. The puppy won't let us sleep on top of each other...she demands a spot between our heads. I wake up each morning with her upside down, curled around my head, nuzzling me. It's wonderful in its own way, but I like to be nuzzled by my husband more.