It Makes Fools of Us All

Memories and thoughts of going shared

That Shameless Hussy

When I die, I want my ashes to be made into projectiles. Like guerrilla gardening seed bombs. Just a pinch of me in a bundle with the seeds from big, hearty, colorful flowers. Maybe some glitter. Wrapped in tulle bags like the ones they throw at weddings.

favorsI don’t know who I could ask to do that for me. To turn my ashes into party favors. I don’t even know if it’s legal. What if I put a basket of them at the door to the service, and just gave everyone the choice whether to take one? Maybe find a appropriately sentimental way to explain what they are holding so that not everyone is horrified:

“Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am, however, in this bundle you hold.
Assuming my executor did what she was told
And unless human ashes don’t make you chagrined,

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