That idea gave me plenty of laughs then, but now, with my dead sister cremated but not yet disposed of, I am having a much harder time.
I am not handling the idea of "scattering" her ashes at the beach later this month very gracefully. (Edited to add: the family is coming out the weekend of the 23rd to do this.) You might say I am being the opposite of graceful. Not clumsy - more like "a great big hysterical ball of snot and wetness." The term that keeps coming to mind is that I am handling this "with extreme prejudice" which, though technically inaccurate, appeals to me somehow.
Oddly and coincidentally, my new long-lost brother, Kevin Charnas tackled this very issue today.
And I also hope that they bury me in gold lame, with an afro stapled to my head, hot pants riding up my crack and roller skates glued to my feet.
After all, I would like to roll in on Judgment Day with a little bit of style. And I have a distinct feeling that god likes disco. She'd better, or there's gonna be hell to pay.
I know that my sister would like something like that. She was always down with the flamboyant, the wild and the fun. She bonded with Liberace immediately upon meeting him.
But this is me we are talking about now. She is off cruising the galaxies and I am stuck here dealing with the remnants. Every time I imagine myself at the beach where we played as kids, scattering...ah, see, I'm crying again. I just want to puke at the thought of it.
I know it isn't her. I know it has nothing to do with who she was, what she is, what her memory means to me. But I just don't think I can do it. People do this stuff all the time. Why can't I? I just really, really don't want to.