Like every living person, I think about death on occasion. And on Christmas, I think about death more often. I don't know, why, I guess maybe all these family gathering make me think about life, and that of course makes me think about death. For whatever reason, I've been thinking lately about my death. Specifically, what I want people to do with me, or whatever is left of me, after I'm gone. I've concluded that I don't much care either way, but there are two things I insist on. Call them my last requests:
1) Don't, on any circumstances, spend any more that 2000€ on my funeral. I don't care what you do with me (I'm dead after all), but I don't want anybody incurring on more expenses than strictly necessary.
2) Throw a party in my house, a reception of some sort, for my friends. Serve them fine, 20 year old scotch whisky (a parting gift of sorts) to raise a glass to my memory.
There's nothing I'd like better than to look down from heaven (or, more probably, look up from hell) and see all my friends and family raising their glasses and thinking of me. They will say was kind of a dick while I was alive, but at least the whisky is good. I'll settle for that.
Happy Holidays!
Click here if you're sure I'm going to hell!
No comments:
Post a Comment