While spending an hour and a half in our local DMV completing the tedious task of renewing and exchanging plates, my husband and I covered a multitude of conversational topics. We talked about taxes and politics, kids and supper ideas, and the annoying woman in the back who would not stop complaining about how long everything was taking. While the rest of us were thinking, Join the club, lady, the employee behind the counter patiently reminded her, No profanity in this office, please. Eventually our conversation turned to the unavoidable end of life on earth as we know it, and I'm sure we were entertaining those around us as much as the still complaining lady in the back.
I want you to bury me in my uniform, said the husband, referring to his military Class A's. Not on your life, said I. That uniform stays with me.
I want to be buried in that uniform, period, he said. Fine, but the ribbons and badges come off before they put you in the ground. You gotta have something to pass down through the generations, was my response. Nope. Everything goes with me. I've seen that stuff in flea markets before. It goes with me, he insisted.
So be it, I sighed. Then the wedding ring stays with you, too.
Oh no, he said. You keep that. Don't put me in the ground with that thing on.
It is so staying on, I assured him. Till death do us part and beyond, buddy.
He looked at me and winked and mumbled something about never being rid of me. Meanwhile, I got to thinking about my own closet and what in the world I would be buried in. I mean, technically, I'm all for cremation, but that topic has stirred up more than enough trouble with those around me. Suffice it to say, if I go before anyone who has other plans, it will make no difference what I would prefer and really... I'm okay with that. I suppose a funeral is mainly for the living anyway, isn't it? No sense creating more havoc during a time that has enough difficulties of its own. At any rate, I mentioned that nothing in my closet that looked nice would fit me at this point.
What would I be buried in?
Not my own military uniform. That thing should be preserved for posterity's sake (and besides, the collar drives me crazy. No one would ever believe I looked at peace while wearing that). Not my black suit. Too tight. Jeans and a t-shirt? Comfy, but no. Look, said the man of compassion, I'll just put a pink top on you with a pink sweater and you'll be happy. (This was said to score brownie points at the remembrance of my favorite color). I don't know, I said, that's just too big of a chance to leave it up to you. After all, I've dealt with my fair share of questionable birthday and Christmas gifts. I thought about it some more and then a picture popped into my head.
My wedding dress! Bury me in my wedding dress!
He looked at me like I had lost my mind and then started laughing.
Yeah, I can see you wanting that.
I love that dress, I insisted.
I know you do, but your wedding dress? Bet that would be a first.
And fluff it up all around me, I told him. It'll look like I'm floating on a cloud. Might as well make a statement and besides, I always have wanted to wear it one more time. Just do what you have to to make it fit.
So there you have it, kids.
Dad in his uniform. Mom in her gown.
End it like it all started.
*And yeah... I would rather my daughter or granddaughter or somebody wear my wedding gown rather than stuffing it in a pine box, but hey, it made for a good conversation. Anything to pass the time at the DMV. =)
2 comments:
Cliff's mom had it planned what she would be buried in when I first met her: She wanted it to be purple and she wanted to be buried in a nightgown or robe. She never wavered from that. I recall one time before Cliff and I were married her laying on the floor shutting her eyes and talking about what she would wear in her coffin. I thought to myself, "This is the strangest family I've ever met."
This made me chuckle, but is also thought provoking. I already have my tombstone with epitaph, in place at the cemetery. My hubby wants to be cremated, but I want to be buried. I have NEVER once thought about my parting outfit. Now I will have to give it some serious thought. My great grandma's sister was buried in her wedding dress. She died on the day she was too be wed. I always wanted to leave my dress to my daughters, but neither of them wanted anything to do with it. So I donated it so that someone who couldn't afford one could use it. Then my granddaughter came along and I wished I had kept it. PS) Keep your hubby's wedding band. There are unscrupulous characters who might steal it.
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