I'm not afraid of the idea of dying, I'm afraid of being forgotten. My death plan is a bit contradictory to my fears of being forgotten, but it was also designed by my son. My wish is to be cremated and my ashes placed under an oak tree. Now, whether the location of said tree is in a cemetery, or on my parents property in Mt Pleasant is still up for debate, but I know what I want to happen to my body. I don't want to be embalmed. I don't want people to stand around and stare at my body - I won't be in there, so why stare at the shell?
Having recently gone to a Baptist funeral (talk about a positive service!) I realized that my fear of being forgotten is a real one. As I walked past the kitchen in the basement of the church, it brought back a flood of memories from my childhood, growing up in a close knit faith community. It's the community aspect that I'm currently missing. I have managed to do a really good job of isolating myself. I'm not exactly an extrovert, but I do miss having a group to belong to.
I tried to submerge myself in the EDS community, but it's a curious community. The local group I found were all particularly bitter and depressed. They judged my upbeat and compassionate personality as "not having it as bad as them." That isn't necessarily the case, but it left me feeling like I didn't belong so I faded out of that community.
I have been looking more closely at death positive groups lately, and I feel very connected to these people. The idea of how death can be empowering, moving, and even beautiful in it's own way. I've been particularly drawn to Caitlin Doughty, and have been gobbling up her wisdom in every media I come across. The death positive movement is something that has been on my mind for a very long time, but not something I've been very open to talking about. My interest in the movement started back when my grandmother died. My mother prepared her body before the mortician arrived from the funeral home, and as she bathed her and wrapped her in clean linens, I remember thinking how incredibly intimate and natural that experience was. Until very recently, this was the norm! Families took care of their dead! I don't find the act of bathing or preparing my loved ones as macabre or filthy or gross. It's an act of love!
Maybe I have another career waiting for me in the mortuary industry?
I don't know why this popped into my head today, but I figured it was there for a reason and I needed to get it down. In the past five years I have spent quite a bit of time in cemeteries, just walking around. When I lived in Minnesota this past year, I visited many, many cemeteries - from little local ones within walking distance to my apartment, to historical sites of early settlers. All of them are unique and I'm looking forward to a break in the weather to go walking again soon. I recently asked someone if they would join me, and it was a relief when they said they weren't put off by the idea and would come with me. I've never really felt compelled to share the experience with anyone before, but I'm warming up to the idea of letting people in.
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