The Manner of my Death

My dad tells me no matter what he doesn't want a memorial service after he dies.

I have every intention of defying his wish, but I get it. The thought of people sitting around being sad your dead is unappealing to me as well. In fact, I think this is the most major drawback about being a parent, it limits the possibility my death will simply go unnoticed.

Certainly, I would have to outlive my immediate family, but I could be gone a full year before I think any of my nephews or the boys would really notice, but now with my daughters being here I wont be able to slip under the radar so easily.

I contemplate my own death at least once a day, and have since I can remember. Once I had a dream I was on a plane that was about to crash, knowing I had only minutes left to live I looked at the person next to me, who happened to be a very cute girl and asked her if she wanted to hold my hand.

The last minutes of our lives we were sharing, in retrospect, I should have asked her to kiss me, but based on the circumstances, impending death, it seemed inappropriate.

So as I sat there holding the hand of a cute girl before I died the last thing I thought was...this is how it ends.

Really.

I didn't think about loved ones, or things I had wished had accomplished- I didn't panic, I wasn't desperate, if anything I felt at peace knowing the manner of my death.

My preoccupation with death is one of those things I'm reluctant to discuss with others. I don't want a terrifying death. Arguably a plane crash is terrifying, yet by terrifying I mean I don't want to be taken hostage by a zombie, or disemboweled by a grizzly -that kind of terrifying.

Since nearly every day someone asks me if I have a disease, I've concluded I could have a slow death if it was painless. The draw back to the slow death is its really hard to make vacation or concert plans, so theres that.

Yet it gives you some time to shore up your life...but maybe its better to be sitting next to a really cute girl and holding her hand.