A tree grows

When I pass, I’ve told my family that I want to be cremated.

As much time as I spend with my camera in cemeteries, I also appreciate how much land they require. It’s imaginable that one day, we’ll run out of space for more cemeteries.

Both of my parents have cremation directives in their wills. They both stipulated, “no doleful funerals.” My dad, a duck hunter, asked that a bit of his ashes be loaded into a shotgun shell and that he be taken on one last hunt. I’m not sure if he’s serious, but why not? I imagine my mom wants her ashes scattered in her beloved Tennessee woods.

Advertisements for eco-urns pique my interest. Fill a biodegradable urn with your ashes, thrown in a handful of seeds, let Mother Nature take her course, and voila… a pine tree, weeping willow, fruit tree, dogwood, or ginkgo biloba – so people will remember me. (see what I did there?)

It’s comforting to think that even after I’m gone. there will be a tangible tribute, a living memorial that is part of me that could live on for decades, if not centuries. That in some small way, my life will go on.

What are your last wishes? What sort of memorial do you want to leave?