Wednesday, 4 October 2017

Let's talk about the D word

Get your minds out of the gutter, I'm talking about death.

This is one of those things I am doing to avoid what I really should  be doing, my proposal. It's due tomorrow. Yet, I'm seated here under flourescent lighting on my swivel chair giving of the impression that all is well in Eddiesville. I  am pretty sure I have said it before and saying it one more time wouldn't make this semester hurt any less or go any faster but, can fourth year just end already?

Anyway if you haven't caught on by now, the week before last I lost somebody very near and dear to me, my aunt.Yesterday was among the first funeral meetings which I was in attendance. My family on my Dad's side has had a rough couple of years. It's been nine years of one death after the other. First it was my grandfather, then my aunt, then my uncle, another  one of my aunts and then my grandmother which was more of a celebration of life as opposed to mourning her demise. It was at this meeting that the topic of death was  brought up being the elephant in the room.

Financially, death is expensive. Isn't that ironic? Your remains take the most humble of abodes but the expense is through the roof. Of course, the topic of life insurance had to pop up which as young as I am is worth a thought, but for Ksh. 3600 a month or was it a year? It may remain just that, a thought. But now that I think about it, 3600/- per year isn't to steep an amount if it is per year.

So that's  just the financial bit. What about the emotional bit. Writing a eulogy by no means sounds fun. I doubt that it was ever in my aunt's wildest dreams  that she'd be eulogizing her youngest sister. No less, two sisters and one younger brother.Would it be narcisstic to eulogize yourself? I don't think so, sending someone down memory lane only for them to remember that you are no more, that must hurt.

I guess the expected trajectory that y'all are expecting me to take is sit down and write my own eulogy. I would if it was a spur of the moment thing, if it was an assignment in a Life Skills class(this should really be considered as Life Skills coursework), if I didn't have all these deadlines that I have, if I didn't have all these lame excuses, you've got to admit there isn't much to document of 22 years and of course if I was brave enough to master enough courage and write about me in the past tense.

As if  that's not enough to think about, do I want to be buried, cremated and there are a couple of pretty innovative pricey options out there that involve freezing your remains to subzero temparatures, vibrating the frozen mass until it breaks down to ash of some sort, which I thought was rather cool...get it? That's a dad joke right there if I ever knew one. A few years ago when Mexican soaps were all the rage I remember one that aired on local television about some sappy love story, aren't they all? The damsel in distress, her distress was that she was a terminally ill cancer patient. Her final wish was to be cremated because she feared it would be too lonely 6 feet under in a casket. I think this particular soap opera ended with her ashes being scattered in the sea.

Then came Days of Our Lives. Somebody faked her own death can't remember who for the life of me. Either way, somebody knew that this death was a fake and came up with the brilliant idea to wait for it...cremate her. That episode I kid you not ended with the casket on the cremation machine conveyor belt, the temperatures rising higher and higher and eventually the person kicking,screaming and crying bloody murder. Can somebody find out if Days of Our Lives was nominated for an Emmy or something, I watched these episodes when I was barely in my tweens yet they are influencing some pretty heavy decisions.

What if the Grim Reaper pays me a visit in a land that is not my own. Death knows no convenience after all. It would probably be cheaper to comeback in an urn more dignifying even. Or should I come back in a coffin or a  body bag. What if there is the mother of all turbulence in the air up there and my body is just being flung all over the place landing with a thud with the luggage and other cargo,or the doors of my coffin just so happen to fling open what do they do to keep those doors tightly shut anyway? It's outrageous and veers dangerously towards  the worst case scenario but these are the harsh realities.

If I get married, if because this single life is giving of a very strong here-to-stay vibe, would I be comfortable being buried in land of my husband's people? There really wouldn't be much of an option because city cemeteries are full up  I guess you've gotta settle for the country.

You would think that after all these questions yours truly would have some hard, affirmative answers but its just sent me into an anxiety of some sort. Until I'm at a stable place emotion-wise I think for now it will just have to remain food for thought.

Have a good one! 

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