ON MAKING ARRANGEMENTS prompt "death" 04.16.10

On Making Arrangements

We are busy doing the things that need doing

Facing up to the fact of our own mortality

And it’s every bit as difficult as one might think

Oh, it’s not that I’m squeamish about dying;

I may not be religious or believe in a specific

After-life, but I do have spiritual thoughts

That co-mingle with scientific ones and they

Comfort me well enough to let me live

Reasonably sure that life has purpose, and death

Might not be the actual end, but just different

No – the intricacies involved with settling our

Affairs, as it were, have to do with pre-arranging

Our unorthodox - at least the unorthodox –

Disposal of my remains; wanting to donate all

My organs, if possible, or do a complete

Anatomical donation, if my organs are not

Fit for the other, is a hard sell in some ways

And an even harder bit to articulate in writing

And, neither one of us – my love or I, want

Much money spent on a funeral – no viewing

Definitely not, no fancy coffin, or perpetual

Care resting place, or elaborate urn, for us

No – we are both members of the Memorial

Society – a group devoted to keeping costs

Minimal – they will see you get buried or

Or cremated, for the lowest amount of money

Possible, and arrange an inexpensive memorial

Too – if that’s what you want – in our case

My church will be doing that – and at a fraction

Of the cost of the usual shindig

So – the big deal with my plan is making sure

My family are on-board; apparently, if they are not

It will not matter what I want, or state in my will

When I go, they will be able to over-ride my wishes

And do whatever they please – so yeah,

We are talking about this – a lot.

Luckily, both their Dad and I believe that what

Happens after death – as far as memorials etc.

Is really for the benefit of those left

And don’t really care much what they do

Whatever brings them comfort actually

So – when they realized that, things grew

A lot less tense – and I was touched when

My eldest, a new mother herself, faced

With the thought that there would be no

One place she could go where “I was”

After I was dead – like a cemetery, or

A crypt, for example, asked if I would pick

A place where she could plant a tree

In my memory so that she could tell

My grandson that it was a place I liked to go

It hit me then, how important things

Like this can be for those that are left behind

And I recalled how often I go talk to my Dad

Who is buried under a tree in my Mom’s

Churchyard, the only consecrated ground

In a new churchyard in the city, as it happens

He is the only one buried there and no-one

Knows but family; there is a plaque inside

But my mother worries about vandals ...

So I will find the perfect spot for my tree

And tell my daughter to be sure to tell

Her son that he can talk to me anywhere

But that for sure, I like to hang out around

This particular tree and if he goes there

I will hear him always, and be glad of his visit