Excuse number 47, plus I'm just weird about death.

Warning, this post is full of run on sentences, poor punctuation, and a disclaimer about my psychological condition. Also, I am very tired.

....another reason I've been focused on other things besides writing, we buried a loved one on Monday. I wasn't going to write about it, but now that it has opened a very large can of emotional worms (that still sits open in the middle of the living room floor) I feel compelled. Unbelievable behavior by someone on the day of the funeral (this is me not writing about that either) has been a recurring topic which has led to Chris and me discussing our wishes for what will happen to us and how that day will go. Chris has entertained the thought that he wants to be cremated, I want to be buried in my favorite comfy clothes and a soft quilt. I KNOW that I'll be gone. I have serious beliefs about what will happen when I die, and in my brain I know that I won't give a rip about the box or the outfit or the blanket. I'm just WEIRD that way. I have a vivid imagination, and it is the biggest tool I have in the box when I go to deal with stress. I can sit on a patio and pretend that I'm on vacation when escape is impossible. I have imagined at funerals that the one I'm saying goodbye to is really just having a nice long sleep until we all see each other again in heaven. (here is where I'm going to give you the disclaimer..I am in therapy, I know I need it, please don't tell me that I do. We're working on it) Ok, so I don't deal with death very well. As Chris and I have discussed this over the last couple of days I've let him know that my vivid imagination plan at his funeral (if he goes first, we're placing bets) will be shot to hell if he is cremated. What, what on earth tell me, will work for the image of him being all burned up in a furnace? It's hard to sleep when you are jumping around in the fire and are reduced to a pile of ashes. I can't begin to imagine a pile of ashes waiting for me to get there so it can wake up from a long sleep. So, Chris has promised not to be cremated, but only if he can be buried in his Capt Kirk outfit. We deserve each other. (in therapy together by the way, we're working on it). AND he is has this thing about being buried under dirt. He wants to be put in a drawer, above ground. I guess we should be shopping for side by side spots at a mausoleum somewhere...unless therapy is extremely successful, and then we might shop for matching urns (that would be REALLY good counseling, I'll tell you what). I will draw the line on outfits though. He hasn't asked yet, but I can hear it coming. I won't be wearing a Lt. Uhura outfit. Sorry honey.