Dying for Fun

April 4, 2013

There have been some bright lights going out lately.  And by that I mean fun people I know have been dying.   And that leads to contemplation.

One can always dream.

It’s good to have a goal.

Thinking about dying is not what you might think someone obsessed with fun would want to do, but it makes perfect sense to me.  I think about dying periodically because then I can move on and focus on fun.   I check in with myself and ask, “If I died today, would I be satisfied with my life? Did I do what I wanted to do? Would I die happy?”

Overall the answer is usually yes, but I try to listen to the little niggles in my brain that suggest other things I could be doing, such as writing, starting a business, taking archery lessons and traveling to Egypt to discover magical bracelets buried in the sand.

Isis

Oh Mighty Isis, I want some of that bad-ass jewelry. Please tell me where to dig in the deserts of Egypt!

I’ve always been a bit obsessed with death, probably because:

  1. I was raised Catholic and there is a lot of emphasis on sin-avoidance as an entrance fee for The Big Show Up in the Sky.
  2. As the unexpected “love child” born to 42-year olds, I had a lot of older relatives and thus a lot more wakes to attend.
  3. I literally watched my mother drink/smoke/stress her way to a premature death.

The way I see it, there are two key parts to dying and I have plans for both.

  1. The actual dying part.
  2. What happens after.

Part 1: The Dying

I know I don’t have control over how this part goes but I have a vision of how I’d like it to happen and what a surprise, it involves dancing.  My dream expiration would occur on the dance floor  at the bottom of a dip. My dance partner (ideally my husband) would reel me into his arm like a yo yo, bend me backwards over his arm and as my head almost reaches the floor, BOOM!  I’m gone.

 

ballroom dancers dip

The Dip & Go.

When I shared this vision with my 9 year old daughter she volunteered to step in at this moment and sing “(I Just) Died in Your Arms Tonight” by Cutting Crew. Excellent.

 

Cutting Crew

I like that dying means something completely different to this crew. For mature audiences only – click the image to find out more.

 Part 2: What Happens After I’m Dead

Here’s the thing – I know from personal experience that it’s the people left standing who are hit the hardest at this point in the game, so why not focus on making it more fun for them?

I do not want be honored by having people traipse into some stale box of a building to parade past my carcass.  And if you want to visit my Church, get your ass on a dance floor.

So Victor, Loren and JCT are you listening? Here’s my Post Party checklist (so far):

1.  Dance Music.

Lady Gaga and Madonna SNL

Just Dance and Get into the Groove, OK?

2.  Life-size cardboard cutouts with inspirational quotes in conversation bubbles.

Life size advice.

Life size advice.

3. Mini (or maxi) trampolines.

I have a pretty solid theory that you cannot be sad and cry while jumping on a trampoline.

 

Try crying while jumping.  It doesn't work.

Try crying while jumping. It doesn’t work.

It always worked for me:

Jumping for joy.

Jumping brings joy.

Do I have a moral of this story/post?  No.  I just wanted to share my thoughts on death, dying and the aftermath. I’m curious to see what yours’ are (use the comments to let me know).

I’m sad that my relatives and friends have left this plane of existence–but I still see their light in the people left behind, particularly their spouses and children.  Their legacy lives on and that is a gift that can live forever.

This post is dedicated to BHJr and CP.

 

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