I have grand plans for my demise. No wait, that didn’t come out right. I have grand plans for my funeral.
First of all, I don’t want a funeral. They’re stupid. They hurt, and everyone stands around with a dead human in the room. It’s very, very awkward when you overthink it like I tend to do. I’ve been both a guest and a family member of the deceased at these things, and they never, ever go well.
When I die, and want someone to cremate me (ideally, someone who does this professionally) and put me in a paper cup, put a tree seed down in the dirt and ashes, and plant me somewhere with a view but that doesn’t border a garbage dump. The best part of this process is–wait for it–I want a kick ass tree house when I’m big enough.
I’m no tree math expert, but I’m under the impression that a good-sized tree, the kind necessary to actually hold up a tree house, has to be around fifty or sixty years old. I’m nothing if not completely inept at being patient, so I’ll need my tree house built up on stilts until I’m big enough to hold it. It’s like a training bra for trees. You wear a training bra until your boobs are big enough to hold up a real bra, so I’ll need a training tree house until I’m big enough to hold up my real tree house.
IMPORTANT NOTE: Whoever ends up in charge of this death improvement project needs to remember to donate everything first. Don’t forget to give away my organs and my skin. My skin is pretty bad assed, but I pity the person who gets my face. We won’t even discuss the poor sap (tree pun) who gets my liver, but let’s go ahead and build that guy’s tree house at the same time that we build mine, just to give him a head start.
12 thoughts on “I’m Gonna Be a Tree When I Grow Up”
Me and Anonymous Love it!
I JUST saw this advertised somewhere. It is a good idea, if a little creepy.
I excel at good, creepy ideas! 🙂
I’m with you. When I die, dear god please cremate me so I don’t wake up on some mortuary table. No funeral. A big big party with loads of food, liquor and great music. Spread my ashes in Montana. I even have the spot picked out. Yup. I hate funerals.
Me too. It’s like it’s a contest to see who can look the least awkward and unpained. This is supposed to be COMFORTING?!
I went to a lovely memorial service for a dear friend. His ashes were interred a few feet from the church steps, in their prayer garden – and I say hi every time I go by. There are lovely bushes.
I LOVE this idea, may I steal it? I had originally asked that my ashes be kept in a bourbon bottle on the mantle, but have been discouraged from this by my mother who reminded me that human remains are still human remains, even if in the form of ashes on a mantle and a total PITA for whoever has to worry about them when I’m gone. My daughter says she’s going to have my ashes made into a diamond and then set in a great ring (yes, there are companies that do this). That way, when people ask about it and she tells them it’s her mother…she can then say “No, it wasn’t my mother’s, it IS my mother”. She thinks this is hilarious…. I think I like your tree/treehouse idea better!!
Actually, they sell the paper cups with the seed already inside. I THINK you’re supposed to give the cup to the funeral home, not try to pour Mom in yourself. Either way, you don’t need to buy a cup. I also think we could move this process along if we bought a kind of mature tree and just poured ourselves in the hole before the bigger tree was planted.
I think you are right about that. Or, you could find a type of tree that grows at a faster rate and therefore, would mature faster?
I know! I’ll be KUDZU!, Hell, I’ll be fully mature by next week!