A Dying Wish

Death is something we all have in common, but few of us like to think about it or discuss it openly. The thing about death is, unlike mishaps and accidents, it doesn’t miss. It will happen, maybe even sooner than you think. I’m not afraid to die, I just don’t want to be there when it happens. With that in mind, you really should start making preparations so that your kids don’t ruin the funeral.

What do you feel when you’re on the verge of dying? Peace, fear, anguish? I know I’m going out with a smile. When I die, I want my tombstone to have free WiFi so that people will visit me more often, who knows, some might remember to bring flowers. Heck, feel free to have a picnic or throw a small party on my grave. There’s no disrespect involved, between us, we both know I’m not in there anymore.

You’re born free, then you’re taxed to death. For his dying wish, Chris called Jerry to deliver an urgent message. He had a special request from his old pal. Chris asked Jerry to make sure that he is cremated, put it in an envelope, and sent it to the Internal Revenue Service. Jerry is bemused. “Why? he asks”. “Well Jerry, they’ve so taxed and taxed me, they might as well tax my remains”.

A long overdue family reunion. A story of a man with his wife and kids not on speaking terms with each other. For his dying wish, he requested that they all had a family retreat to honor his death. He left clues in the different events he mapped out to remind them of all the fun experiences they had growing up. It worked a treat. They actually started talking to each other as opposed to using sign language.

Personally, I’d opt for something a bit less ordinary. The retreat will be replaced with a yacht cruise and my eldest will be charged with the responsibility of pouring my ashes into the ocean. For the twist, the captain will be instructed to shut down the engine in the middle of the sea and create panic. You know, just to see which one of them openly curses me.

Renewed hostilities. Mark and Dave weren’t on speaking terms with each other over an agelong squabble. They decided to make up because Mark was in a bad spot, about to go under the knife with a 50:50 chance of survival. After a long conversation and a few tears, they made up. Just as they were about to wheel Mark into the theatre, he turns to Dave and goes, “On the off chance I don’t die, we’re still quarreling!”

Near-death. I can already picture it. Lying there on my death bed, admonishing my household before I set sail. Everyone is dressed in sackcloth per my requirements. Also, if your head isn’t shaven, there will be orders to not let you in. I look to where my youngest is standing and go, “You clearly aren’t doing enough crying for my liking”. It’s a wail fest. They’re crying according to the tonic solfa I contracted a composer to write.

The letter. Of course, I’ll leave them a letter to be read two weeks after I flee. To my oldest, you’ve always been very silly growing up, but since I’m dying I might as well say a few nice words to you. “Get some help man, seriously”. You lot should battle each other for my properties. May the best kid win. To my loving wife who endured me all these years. If I were to come back to this world again…

I’ll marry a chiropractor instead.

© Gottfried. All rights reserved


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