Sunday, March 2, 2014

Mt. Pisgah, Here I Come!

Well...not any time soon, mind you. I hope. But my plans are made.

Back when I was still 12 (the summer before I turned 13), my family went to the beautiful mountains of NC for our two week vacation. While there are a lot of memories I could share, the one pertinent to this post is the memory of my Daddy shooting a golf ball of the top of Mt. Pisgah. There's not much I can do to top that...except...

When I die, be cremated and my ashes be scattered off the top of...Mt. Pisgah! 

Seriously. I've told everyone who can make that happen that that's what I want.

Originally I planned to be an organ donor, then have what was left of me donated to science, and then when science was through with me give me back to my family for cremation and a trip to the mountains. Well, melanoma took care of the organ donation part but stepped up the desire for science to have all of me.

I do want folks to gather for a memorial sing-along service. At some point. Doesn't really matter to me when that takes place, maybe at Mt. Pisgah those gathered will sing my favorite hymns, read Psalm 23, say a prayer and blow me off...the mountain.

My two grown kids will have the opportunity to blow me off. Or blow me away.

I have told my daughter that if she just can't bring herself to take me to the mountains, that she can scatter me somewhere in Conway. I don't particularly relish the idea of sitting in a jar on somebody's mantel and collect dust. I may eventually wind up in a yard sale and an unsuspecting person may take me to their mantel...and so on and so on and I may have to come back and haunt somebody.

I've also told her that if she just can't bring herself to have me cremated then she can bury me. Shoot. My parents have already bought plots for all of us. She can put my ashes in the plot. Whatever they do, I'll never know. I don't think anyway. (insert annoying smiley face here)

Yes. I've discussed my demise with my children and right at this moment, as I write, they are 32 and 23. I began talking with them about this long ago. As a matter of fact, we've always been open about death. Both my parents have always been open about death. It's a part of life. Not a welcomed part, mind you. Not something I'm thrilled to think about. But it will happen. Not even the richest person on the planet can buy their way out of this. No one can cheat death forever.

Since it's a fact of life, I want my children to know we can talk about it. Maybe it's the family I grew up in in the rural South. Both my maternal Grandma and my Daddy's oldest sister...both sides of the family...kept stacks of family pictures they would each pass around during visits. Nice picture. Nice picture. Nice picture. Grave-site. Person looking up from their casket. Another open casket picture. Nice picture. And on it goes. Lands.

This weekend my son and I were discussing this. He's my 23 year old who thinks he's NOT going to Mt. Pisgah and dump me. He'll just put my ashes in a trash bag. He had visions of my Mt. Pisgah vision and we had two different visions. He thought there would be a HUGE amount of ashes and he would literally throw them off the mountainside and they would cover unsuspecting people below and they would walk around hauling "me" with them. He kinda found that thought repulsive. Go figure. (insert  annoying smirk)

We laughed. A lot. He gave me various scenarios of what he would do with my ashes. And I would tell him that I knew he would not do that to me. I'm his mama and he does love me. He'll show respect, and maybe even shed a tear, when it happens. Heck, he'll MAKE sure I'm taken to Mt. Pisgah and he'll make annual pilgrimages to see the spot I was scattered at. I told him I didn't really want to be thrown in the air and land where I may. My mourners can dig a hole and pour me in it. Mark the place with a handmade wooden cross.

Again, I won't know what really becomes of me once I breathe my last. I plan to close my eyes here and open them in Glory. The vistas there will be so far superior to earth's Mt. Pisgah that I'll probably not give that another thought.

But I do hope they go, and take me with them even if they bring me back to Conway and stick me in the pre-bought plot in the town cemetery.

And maybe hit a golf ball. Or two.

That will top their Granddaddy.

And life goes on...


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