I had just dropped our daughter off at the airport so that she could return to her life in Chicago.
“Goodbye Princess Bryn. Mommy will miss you.”
“Miss you too Mom.”
“Can I have a kiss?”
“Is it really necessary?”
“Oh come here goofball.”
“Mom, I’m 24. You’re embarrassing me.”
“Yes, I know you’re 24. Yes, I know you’re totally capable of taking care of yourself. But your leaving me- again. With your father. All alone. With his crazy.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“Fine? I’m not getting any younger ‘ya know.”
“Just in case, bury me in simple pine, with cotton linen upholstery. No brass- Holy Mary Mother of God- no brass! Brushed nickel instead. Much more tasteful. And both a service at the parlor AND graveside. I’d like classical music for visitation and bagpipes graveside…”
“We’re not even Scottish?”
“You’re not going anywhere!”
“Oh, I am going. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But I’m going, and I’d like a party atmosphere, with lots of booze and a full spread. Maybe a horse drawn carriage…”
“You mean a hearse.”
“… to take me in style. And LOTS of flowers. For the LOVE OF GOD don’t forget the flowers, and remember to plant a standard Hydrangea at my feet, ’cause your aunt and I have robbed tons of those out of graveyards, and we should ‘give back’. We’re conscientious that way.”
“What about Dad?”
“What about him? Put his ashes beside me. Why should anything change?”
“And what kind of message on your stone would you like to leave?”
“Well, that’s easy. As big a one as possible”…
|Now this is what I’m talkin’ about!
|Neo-classical Gallic ruins-
for a subtle message.
|A super-sized version of an
at your gate-
’cause if ‘ya need a guard,
why not have a
|She might be dead but she still needs her veggies.
yes I will.
|Ben, contemplating his life
just not me.