I don’t think I mentioned it on here, but last year, I had some medical tests done that showed that I was having problems with my liver. I won’t go into it here, because it’s ongoing and it’s not something I particularly want to talk about. But I will say this:
All that business started me thinking. Thinking about life and the possible end thereof leads to thinking about life insurance leads to thinking about your own funeral*. You know, because that’s how everyone’s mind works, not just mine (I think I might be mental. That or just morbid. Or mental).
So you know how people are always saying that they don’t want their funeral to be sad, that they want people laughing and having fun at their funerals? Yeah, not me, sorry. When I die? I want people to be sad. I will be PISSED if they’re not.
I mean, obviously I’ll be dead so I won’t be there to witness it but for crap’s sake! I want my friends and family to cry the Ugly Cry. I want the boogers and the sobbing. The people throwing themselves on my casket and knowing that they just can’t go on without the awesomeness of Louise in their lives. Totally devastated and hopeless without me.
Okay, so maybe not suicidal, but depressed? Hells to the yes. MISS ME, people!
Now, there can be drinking, of the maudlin “drowning one’s sorrows”, everyone singing She Moved Through The Fair and Oh Danny Boy weeping, voices breaking at the high notes variety.
But when I die? Don’t throw any effing parties. I mean it.
* I am not dying. Don’t worry.
ha ha, no one will DARE smile at your funeral now.
Let’s hope that is years and years and years away!
LOL – I’m right there with you! I want people to be sad and miss me. But I’m kinda thinking that some of my birth family members (The Bastards, in particular) will dance a happy, happy gig.
Girl, you crack me up!!
I am making a mental note of all of this right now.