ASSIGNMENTS:
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Caitlan Read
Burnaby, British Columbia CANADA
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REPORTS:
PREVIOUS NEXT
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When the life has left my body I would very much like to be buried in a cool, quiet forest in a simple pine box. Please, no sealing of my grave with cement or welding of rocks. Just bury me in a box that can decompose into the groud. I want to nourish flowers. Do not make my family see my dead body if they don't want to. Please, no open casket. No makeup. No embalming. I want to return to the earth, not poison it with toxic blood replacment.
I don't have a say in how people will react to my death. Who knows? Maybe my whole family will have died already, maybe I will be friendless. Maybe there will be no one there to feel anything at all. But if there is, I want them to be honest. And I want them to allow themselves to feel whatever it is they need to feel, whether it be anger or sorrow or regret or bewilderment. I want them to know that I had a beautiful life which was an endelss source of bewilderment and food for thought. And beauty. My world was a beautiful, albeit confused place.
Share my books. Share my records. Write notes in the books and leave them in random places in various neighborhoods, share them with your friends. Try to put my posessions to good use, somewhere, donate them, use them for fuel recyle them or use them yourself.
Finally, I want anyone to say anything they want at the ceremony. Simultaneously, if no one has anything to say, they don't have to. I don't know what my death will mean exactly to the people in my life, as I hardly have a clue what I mean to them now, when I am living and breathing.
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