It’s been nearly exactly a year since I last blogged here. It’s not that I don’t have anything to say, but rather that I have too much to say and have had trouble sorting out what is appropriate and inappropriate. As I try to figure that out, I thought I’d dig around my drafts to see if there is anything printable. My New Year’s Resolution for 2020 is to “shit or get off the pot” when it comes to things. So this fits in quite nicely.
Since I wrote the post Someday when we have money, I got to thinking about my funeral and my wishes for when I die. And being that I do not have a lawyer or any kind of will drawn up, I thought it makes sense to just write a post about it, right? I’m a truth-teller by nature, so when I say I’m of sound mind you can believe it, right? And witnesses… all of you who read this are my witnesses, right? Seems legit to me.
My attitude towards my own death has changed over the years. I went through several periods where I either welcomed the thought or planned actively planned for it. Since I’ve been a parent, though, I have had more occasion to fear dying. I know how hard it is to lose someone you love, and I don’t want my kids to feel that pain…
And then I worry about how I might die. Sometimes, when I feel particularly prescient, I find myself overly wary of every little thing because, dear Lord, I do not want to die in a senseless, avoidable way. This happens to me a lot.. when I’m driving… when I’m walking the dog… whenever I’m in a boat… when I climb a ladder… when I wash knives… you get the idea.
I feel a little better about things now, though. Not long ago, when I was driving a particular stretch of road that often fills me with that fear of an avoidable death, I realized the senselessness of worrying about how I’m going to die. It’s absurd! Because, we only die once! So why worry about ALL the ways I could die if none of them are at all likely to happen?
I, Angela Soriano, being of sound mind (and body?), do hereby present this as my last will and testament:
If my dear husband hasn’t already run himself into the ground (as he undoubtedly will if he has his way as a marathon addict), he should retain possession of whatever it is that I have, aside from my debts. He is not a greedy man, so I trust him to let the kids choose what they want. In the unlikely event that I outlived him, well then… go at it kids!!!
The inevitable junk and things you don’t want to keep should go to someone who appreciates them. Have fun with it… have a garage sale and use the proceeds to pay for my funeral (if we’re not rich yet). If we are rich, give everything you don’t want away.
On the subject of my debts, I leave any and all debt to the 45th President of the United States, Donald J. Trump.
Take my journals and burn them. You can read them first if you really must, but please consider that I have grown and changed over the years and I’m not necessarily the same person I once was… And then BURN them! Make it a party! Put them all in the fire pit and light ’em up! And roast marshmallows for smores! <- but take the pictures out of the books first.
I would also like to be burned – cremated. I know, I have in the past made very bold declarations about wanting a Viking funeral… but after learning that the Vikings weren’t really sent off in flaming boats (and knowing that it’s probably not legal on Lake Michigan), I have changed my mind. Instead, get me cremated and then release some of my ashes in a lantern. If there’s money to travel, then do it in Beijing or Hyderabad, but that Lighthouse up in Evanston on Lake Michigan will do just fine.
If you can’t do that, at least attach some of my ashes to a kite and fly me around…
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