ASSIGNMENTS:
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Chelsey Doyle
Vancouver, British Columbia CANADA
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REPORTS:
PREVIOUS NEXT
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DECISION
Shall we get going? Please, come follow my footsteps.
[turn to your right]
[go left at the stop sign and walk along the sidewalk]
[watch out for cars and continue going straight]
September 28, 2007, 17:46
The first time in a cemetery by myself, the idea of passing on is my greatest fear, and the thought has brought me goose bumps in the past. It is somewhat peaceful here. Well, it is the past. To think I will be part of the past is something I have gradually built up the courage to accept. One day someone will have to make a decision about what to do with my body.
[take a right]
I don't want others to make that decision. I want to make it now, so that others do not have to deal with the grief and sorrow. When I die it should be a celebration,
[stop, watch for cars, go across]
a celebration of my life. Cremation is a possibility so I can be spread around the world. Possibly to places I have visited, or possibly to places I have not, but most importantly back into the earth. Do I really want to be cremated? Do I just want to turn into ash? Or, do I prefer the idea of being buried. Do I want people to come visit my tombstone, knowing that there is a physical presence six feet under where they stand? Either way, I will be recycled back into the earth. Through bugs or through fire to ash. I don't like the idea of bugs eating away at my body. It definitely does not appeal to me. I would ask that all my organs be removed and donated to those who are in critical need and to science I guess. If I was cremated my organs would have to be removed anyway.
[continue straight up the sidewalk]
To die, to sleep: no more. To die, to sleep: to sleep perchance to dream (Hamlet, Act III, scene i). All I ask for is peace. If I were buried I would need a cell phone to go with me. What if I woke up? The idea of being six feet under and suddenly reawakening is dreadful. A cell phone is a must, even though the chances of that happening are quite slim. To be cremated you cannot reawake, so a cell phone would not be necessary. I do not want to be mourned. I want to be celebrated, celebrated for all the good. I don't want people to weep and sob or feel like they have to suffer. Why should they suffer anyway, for something they can't undo? All I ask is that I rest in peace. My body is to be present at my wake or well whatever you want to call it, my celebration? I don't want people to be afraid to look at me and touch me. I will bring good luck, I promise! I want people to remember me. I want people to have a big dinner party and talk about all the good things, maybe even bad things that happened over the course of my life. I want them to remember me not through sorrow nor grief; I want them to remember me through happiness and good times. My organs will be donated to those in need, including scientists. I want to die knowing that my organs will go to someone. I want to die knowing that I can save someone's life. I want to die knowing that I'm not going to take someone's life with me. Yes the idea of bugs eating away at my flesh is not the best for me.
[stop, look to your left, watch for cars, cross]
I would prefer to be cremated. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Some ashes are to remain in an urn, which is to be close to my family. I would like a tombstone of some sort,
[follow the road]
small or big, doesn't matter. Something with my name CHELSEY ELIZABETH DOYLE (or married name if applicable)
[to your right]
BORN NOVEMBER 11 1987, DIED (well, that's still unknown). I would like a little lantern placed next to it, so that I have light to lead my soul. A year after my death I would like flowers planted around my tombstone, bright colours of all sorts like reds and pinks and yellows and oranges. We are like flowers. We blossom into intricate masses of matter; eventually we wilt away, only to be recycled back into the circle of life. And now that I am no longer afraid, I can begin to live.
[stop]
What would you do? What do you say? How do you feel? What do you think?
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