I’m going to go on record here: I would like to be cremated when I pass on. I guess it ruins any hopes any of my family might have of an open casket, but who really has hopes for that? Besides, it’s my death. It’s not like I’m asking to be laid in a glass case in the middle of the forest like Snow White did. What a diva. It’s a wonder the seven dwarfs didn’t all end up being referred to as Grumpy after that.
If it is even an option, I’m thinking that having the ashes scattered at sea would be a good arrangement. This way there’s no creeping out family by sitting in an urn on their mantle.
For many people, “the lake” is the greatest place to be. Fishing from a canoe, floating on air mattress, hearing the birds chirp, seeing the trees sway in the breeze. And I don’t disagree that this is wonderful, but for me this is no competition for the ocean. There’s something about that salt air. Breathing it in seems like the most refreshing and invigorating experience. It brings back positive memories of fishing off a pier in Yarmouth, going clam digging in Digby, and waiting for family to come visit at the ferry in Saint John. Even tasting the salt on my hands after swimming in it brings me back to going to the beach as a child. Add to that, lying in sand is more comfortable than any bed I’ve ever slept in.
And even when there is no sand—standing on the big rocks and looking out at the ocean, especially when there is no land in sight, is so serene I could stand there… Ok, I was going to say for hours, but that’s just unrealistic. Let’s just say I love it. Makes me think of eating dried fish with my Uncle Bob. or walking on the big rocks with college buddies during our Easter break. Maybe this is why Finding Nemo edges out Lion King and Toy Story in my list of favourite Disney movies.
Just today Joy and I sat on the beach in Cap-Pelé. She surprised me with a little getaway, waiting to tell me just after I woke this morning. I laid in the sand while she sat in a lawn chair, both reading whatever book we’re currently on. She commented on the way back to our motel that our time there felt like she had just been cleansed and refreshed. I felt it to.
So, yes, please bury me there if it’s possible. And if it’s not possible, feel free to be sneaky about it. Smuggle me onto the Digby ferry and do the deed over the edge of the boat when no one is looking. Just make sure the wind doesn’t carry me back on board, especially in someone’s face or something embarrassing like that. It’ll be fun!
Congratulations Manchester by the Sea. This is your week.
And the Oscar goes to…
Best Actor: Chris Pine as Bernie Webber in The Finest Hours.
Best Quote: Robert Ford: “How’s that leg?” Dick Liddil: “Full of torment, Bob. Thanks for askin’.” — Casey Affleck and Paul Schneider in The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford.
I had forgotten that Affleck was one of the actors who had been accused of sexual misconduct in the light of the Me Too movement. I am very supportive of that movement and mean no disrespect in any way to the victims. Not that they read this, but I feel it’s important to point out.