I’m sitting enjoying a bit of sun in the Scandinavian winter. A pair of mature ladies are sit down next to me having a conversation. They are talking about funerals, remembering and comparing. Cascets, urns, churches and funeral lunches. One of them circles back to humble bragging about one funeral in particular. “It’s the most modern funeral I’ve ever been to”, she says every time.
I’m donating my body to a medical school for dissection. There’s a clause in the document I signed saying they may reject it (if I die of something contagious for example), but that’s not going to be my problem. After they’re done with me I’ll be cremated (my loved ones can have the ashes if they want) and my name goes up in the university’s memorial garden.