At my own funeral

My funeral will be a good one. I’ve it all planned. The readings. The music. The food. The video reel. I’ve decided on cremation and quite fancy bequeathing my ashes and some money to an adventurous soul who will then sprinkle me in those places I never quite made it to. The ones on my list of places to visit that didn’t get checked off.

Well, that’s the plan at the minute.  All subject to change, of course. But it’s been the plan for a number of years now and may well last the pace.

I dreamt once of being at my own funeral. I was surprised at some of the people who had turned up. And the hats… the hats were mad. But I’ve never felt the need to do a dummy run, to experience it before the event. Not like they’re doing in South Korea.

27witkorea-coffin-superjumboIt’s the thing to do in Seoul apparently, as a way to better appreciate life. Well, each to their own, I say.

 After an instructional lecture and video, participants are led into a dimly lit hall decorated with chrysanthemums, where they sit, often tearfully, beside caskets and write their last testaments. Then they put on burial shrouds and lie down in the coffins.

Okay. I could do that. Am not sure why I’d want to, but I could do it. Yet with my trust issues being what they are, there’s no way on God’s earthly world that I’d let some grim reaper nail the lid of the coffin shut and leave me there for ten minutes. What if I fell asleep and he went home? What then? Madness.

No money changes hands. The experience is free. And since it started four years about, some 15 000 curious souls have used one centre alone. All for different reasons. Some companies even see it as a motivational gig. The mind boggles.

But hey, if it does the job and rids people of suicidal tendencies, it worth it.