This is part of a post I first published in 2011, which contains some of my last wishes. At the moment, things are getting hazy—again—around my little brother’s funeral services. Prior agreements are being dismissed, people are changing their minds, his wishes are been taken as guidance, the wants of the living are getting priority, some need this… others want that…
I’m exhausted. I wish for about three breaks… and a little lift. Some might think this odd, but reading my will and knowing that the person in charge of carrying out my last wishes will make sure that they become a reality gives me a bit of peace. Send me light, patience and wisdom, my Wicked Luvs…
“You’ll Dance When I Die”
You’ll dance when I die because you loved me and you knew me.
You’ll wear my favorite colors: black and red. It’ll be okay to cry when you miss me too much, but the tears will dry as you spin, laugh and dance.
You won’t kill flowers for my funeral party. You’ll know cut flowers would make me sad. But you’ll bring potted daisies to brighten up the place; pink happy ones to the right of my urn, and red wild ones to the left.
You’ll keep some of my ashes, but will spread most in the woods. You’ll know I’ll want to be trees, soil, flowers… I’ll want to coat a stone, an old log, a new seed… I’ll want to be Nature… earth food… I will, in death, still want to be me.
You’ll play my favorite music; loud. At the universe you might be pissed. Sometimes you’ll ask the Gods “Why did you have to take my love?” And you’ll be fucking mad at them, at me, at everything…
But you’ll still dance when I die because you’ll remember that I lived.