I attended a funeral last Saturday and, of course, the inevitable discussions about death followed. With Emily as usual. Being as morbid as we are, we have talked about dying countless times so that was nothing unusual but it got me thinking. Yes, it did hurt. But only a little bit. I got to thinking about the interesting demands people make when they talk about their death. Yes, I said death. I have never liked tip-toeing around the idea by trying to use "nice" words. Death, in and of itself isn't nice, so there is no use in trying to gussy it up by saying passed away or any of that nonsense. Dead, kicked the bucket, bought the farm, bit the dust, ate it, whatever phrase you want to use is fine with me. It is what it is. Anyway, there are people that insist on being cremated. There are people that insist on NOT being cremated. They want to be buried next to their spouse or they can't stand the idea of being buried on top of or under someone. And then there is the funeral. They want this song or that song. Tell so-and-so they can't come. Make sure so-and-so is there. Don't have a viewing. Have a viewing. Make sure I'm in clean underwear. Make sure it's happy. Make sure it's sad. I've even done it myself. Here is the magic secret to all of it-You're dead! You don't know the difference! Whomever you've left behind that loves you or even just gave a crap, it's up to them. Whatever they need to make them feel like they have said a proper goodbye is what needs to happen. So, it turns out I don't care if they burn me or bury me. I don't care if they put cowboy boots and a bathrobe on me and prop me in the corner. Bury me naked so you can pawn my clothes. If they could get away with it, I'd tell them to bury me in the back yard because it's cheaper. Even though I must admit I still can't stand the thought of everyone (And by every one I mean the three people that let the guilt win and showed up) standing up and talking about me like I'm Mother Teresa instead of admitting I could be kind of bitchy, I hated people and I cursed at my kids and pretty much everyone else that cared to listen. But that rant can wait until another time.