​After a two-week hiatus from work, I believe I am ready to get back to it tomorrow.  Monday, it will be.  I had a definite scary experience, a definite medical emergency, and if there are a couple of things I learned, it's that a hospital stay will be the most expensive vacation I will ever take and the entire awful experience made me even more appreciative to be alive.

Mostly, I am relieved for my children.  I know what it's like to lose a mother at a very young age.  I have lived through the trauma and the sadness and the ultimate emotional displacement it is sure to cause.  I recognize the sickened grief people have when they look at a child who has lost their mother, and it's a look of pity they give you. She looks just like Patty, I knew they were thinking.  And they probably did not see me, but instead saw the end of my mother's life and how could she do this to us?  I know what it is like to be the only girl who doesn't have a mother to confide in when it is time to learn how to shop for Kotex.  And, I know how it feels when there is life insurance money and everybody (even the people you said you did not want to live with) wants not you, but instead they want that money.  None of this is what I would ever want for my babies, of course.  But because tomorrow is never promised to any of us, there are some actions I need to take to ensure my wishes are carried out for my children and my service in the event of my untimely demise.  

I need to make a will.  I also need to talk about what I want done at my funeral.  The Ex and I (he recently requested I not use his name in any public domain or else he would sue me...uh okay...) used to say we were going to do this, and we didn't, but now I have to.  I don't have any money to figure out what to do with, no, I'm sure it will not surprise any of you to know that.  But I do know how I want my funeral, and I'm going to write it here because I don't have anywhere else to put it.  I don't have anyone else to give it to.  I no longer have The Ex in my corner to make sure it all works out.  So, here.

I don't want to be buried.  I want to be cremated and scattered into the ocean during the high heat of summer.  Even if I don't die in summer, that is when I wish for my ashes to be scattered.  It should be a pristine beach, one with a variety of seashells and tall sea grass, and the sand?  Preferably white.  If it isn't too much trouble, please find a beach without all those horrible, awful cigarette butts pebbled about.  I know some people will not like the idea of scattering me, but I do.  I want to be loose.  I want to have instant integration with the elements.  Why lie in a box delaying everything?  And, I am sick and tired of so many cemeteries.  When I was six there was a McDonald's in Sapulpa located right across from a cemetery, and I would always refuse any food that came from the Graveyard McDonald's.  It just did not seem sanitary to my childlike mind.  I mean, what about cross-contamination?  Didn't the water they used to cook and clean, didn't it come from the ground?  Right next to a football field full of dead bodies?!!  I still lose my appetite when I drive by one...  Anyway, cemeteries, yuck.   There could be parks there, children swinging.  We can't fit all these dead people on the earth anymore.  I know people like to come visit when their friends go first, and that people want to have a spot to sit and contemplate, but why get in the car and drive?  Why not be standing at the sink rinsing out your coffee cup and commune with me then?  Why not sit in the den in the afternoon and talk to me?  I can be everywhere instead of in a box in the ground, some weirdly designed thing that costs a fortune.  I can't be buried.  What if I want to go somewhere?

Now the service.  I do want a service.  I am going to write something and I will update it if I need to, but I am going to write something to be read to the people who show up and it will have to do with trying to see the whole circle.  It will be designed to let people feel joy, I would really like them to feel joy.  Well, I would like them to feel pain, too, to blow their noses into their damp hankies and shake their heads and say, Oh, That Liz; but mostly I want them to feel that this is a good thing, life and its hard, unexplainable ways, it is a good thing, and although I may have gone a little crazy and forgot almost everything at almost 43, I loved my life.  When everyone is on the way out, I want there to play James Brown's "I Feel Good."  Really, really loudly.  I don't care how old you are at the time or how you feel about James Brown, I want that song at my funeral.  Every time I ever heard that song, I really did feel good.  I always said, "Ow!" right with James a time or two, even though I was an uncool white woman who only thought she could dance.  I want picnic food after the funeral service, fried chicken, chopped brisket, pasta and potato and pea salads, and maybe brownies with thick and sugary frosting.  At my house.  And then kick them all out.  To whomever is the carry-outer of my final wishes, just kick them out, even though there will be some who want to stay.  Some will want to stay and say things, and some will want to stay because they are always the last to leave in case anything happens.  Usually it's women, hovering around like huge flapping birds, but really...just kick them out.  If, at the time of my death I am with someone special, this is where I would tell him to then go into the bedroom and pull down the shades.  I would tell him to take off his shoes and lie down and think of when we first met.  I would tell him to keep on thinking of everything he could remember about me up until the last day.  I would tell him don't you dare clean up the kitchen and put away the leftovers before you do this.  You just lie down and remember everything.  That will be the real service.  It would be kind of nice if you would talk to me, because we don't know, I might be able to hear you.  

Now, my kids.  I want them to go live with a nice family, one that doesn't scream or yell or cuss or cut their eyes at one another or talk behind one another's backs. When my mother died, I think my dad was supposed to get me by default, but he didn't because that whole mess was intercepted by the very people I didn't want to go and live with (money, I think, was the only reason they had wanted me). When he finally got me back after 3 months of not being able to see my grandma OR my dad, I was a wreck and desperately needed a sounding board, a neutral party, someone I could talk to.  I never got it.  There was never any closure.  Matter of fact, proper closure is something I have worked on for what seems like my entire life.  I don't want this for my children, no matter their ages or mine when I do pass away.  I want them to know just how much I loved them, and that I would have gone and laid in the street for them had I needed to.  I want my kids to be given a chance to talk about their sadness if and when they need to, the inevitable void in their lives.  I want them to live with people who know and love them almost as much as I have.  Maybe my friend Lesley would be ideal.  Or Angela.  I have also thought about Barbara and Toby.  But whoever takes my kids should be firm and hard, but also funny and soft.  They should like books and pizza and technology and swimming pools.  Grace will want a real live horse, probably, but don't buy her one unless you go into it with the understanding that Grace usually quits things soon after she starts them.  She's afraid of failure, my Grace, and so she just bows out so that she isn't uncomfortable in the long run. This is heartbreaking, I know, because Grace has a lot of natural talent.  She's a dancer, a would-be acrobat, and an actress.  She has a giggle that reminds me of a chipmunk, cheerful and ready.  She will cry at the drop of a hat, but then look at you with that impish grin that makes you keep one eye open at all times.  Oh, and Molly is scattered and messy and sometimes lazy, but she's the easiest one.  She will likely go far in life if you keep on her and make sure she knows what she is capable of.  She tries too hard to please her friends, which infuriates me because I feel like she sells herself short and often chooses friends who don't value her heart or her gentle spirit.  Molly is a helper, and very much an empath.  She feels a burden to do everything she can do within her power to protect others, especially those she feels are treated unjustly.  She has so many interests and her ability to pick up on things amazes me.  And Griffin?  Just know that he loves his momma!  He has a heart to help people, and he has a kindness about him that brings about a pain much like a stab in the chest when you least expect it.  You can be going on about your day, maybe even a little bitter, and he will say or do something so sweet or insightful it will stop you in your tracks and you instantly regret feeling that way in the first place.  He has trouble making friends and is awkward, so just love on him and look for things in him that make you proud, and cultivate those things in him.  Just as I would do.  

It's so funny, as I write this I think, but of course that won't really happen.  Death.  It won't really happen to me.  This is just in case.  

Tomorrow, I return to work.  I am feeling better and stronger every day.  I am so grateful that I get to be here with my kids, living this life, for a little while longer.  I received confirmation this weekend that soon my dreams will be realized.  Is this why I got to live beyond what happened only a few weeks ago?  We watch.  Now, let us feel good.