My preferred way to die is after lunch with Sarah and Che. These days we sit at the little table in our dining room, eat, chat and laugh.
An hour or so later, I stumble to the hammock, under the shade of the trees in the backyard.
I love laying in the hammock.
When I think about it, it would be an excellent way for me to go.
Sun shinning on my face, swinging on a soft breeze, fall asleep and that's it, I die.
Clean up would be easy for Sarah and Che because I'm already basically rolled up in my personal Shroud of Turin.
We still have to figure the disposal out, but we'd just assume they leave my body on side of the road, and let the County cover it as a pauper's funeral.
It's frigging expensive to take care of the diseased in this country, thousands of dollars which so many can't afford!
So there's the whole after death mess to plan but I'm more focused on how I'd actually prefer to die peacefully in the hammock.
But then I get to thinking about it.
Che loves the hammock like I do, often diving in with me so we can swing, play, sing, talk and cuddle.
It would suck if she dives into the hammock like she normally does and I'm dead.
That takes all of the joy out of dying in my hammock.
No matter how I envision it, my death leaves physical and emotional messes behind for Sarah and Che to clean up.
In the end, there's just no great way to go.
It defies planning.
Sarah's a big planner so I've not given up that she'll come up with a workable solutions.
Surprisingly, the words of Rene Descartes float into my head, "I think, therefore, I am."
I've always thought this to be as real as it gets when it comes to human existence, but laying here in the hammock, and I think there's more to it.
I love, therefore, I am.
That seems more sound to me. Perhaps not as logical, but it feels more right, and I ride my feelings with wild abandon now.
"Love never dies" I was taught in Sunday School and I've believed it with everything in me.
Now I'm going to actually see.
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