Confronting mortality

Something strange has happened.

Three men I dated suddenly passed away within months of each other this year.

They were far too young to die.

David was in his early 60s.

Steve was 58.

Bob was 47.

I confess, I’m more than a little shook at the suddenness and finality of death.

It’s made me think about my own life in ways I wouldn’t normally think about.

What do I want for my funeral?

Who will be there?

Do I have a long time until I pass or will it be swift and sudden, as with them?

There’s no doubt they have left behind family and friends who are suffering from their losses.

Steve had a son and an ex-wife who he was very close with.

Bob had three kids.

And David was a newlywed.

Although I can barely stomach the idea, it seems important now to at least provide my family with guidelines for my funeral or memorial should anything ever happen to me.

I want the quilts I’ve made to be brought to decorate the service at Burning Man.

And I’d like for my children to both speak about me.

And my friends Michelle, Barbara, and my cousin Jennifer.

I want everyone to wear bright colors.

None of this black nonsense.

And at the end, when everyone is processing out, I want Israel Kamakawiwoʻole’s What a Wonderful World/Over the Rainbow to play.

I want to be laid to rest with the ashes of my dogs and my children Douglas and Ruby, who preceded me in death.

Kinda morbid for a Tuesday blog post, but there you have it.

I’m confronting my own mortality.

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