"Just sharpen my legs and drive me into the ground."

So speaketh Donovan P.

That's what my dad used to say when we'd try to have a conversation about...well...to be blunt, death. To be more precise, what he wanted done with his body after death.

Of course, we didn't do any of the things he'd suggested...sharpening his legs and driving him into the ground being only one of the myriad of bizarre choices he gave us. We went the "traditional" route even though I knew he'd have hated it.

I attended the visitation of a dear friend (though we haven't been close for years)/former in-law tonight. And I was horrified even though I have a feeling it's just what she would have wanted.

It resembled nothing so much as a ancient Egyptian burial ritual...ya know?..where they send the deceased off into the great, black unknown with food to nourish them, jewelry to barter with, blankets to keep them warm and all manner of personal possessions.

There was a frickin bag of potato chips in the coffin, fer chrissake. It was beyond bizarre.

And it wasn't just this service. The last several I've been to have done something similar, though not quite so over the top.

Maybe the extreme...weirdness...of all the hoo-haa...all the jingly-jangly junk...helps temper the grief...helps take one's mind off of the situation? I dunno. I guess it sorta helped me out in that area.

All I do know is she died way too young (we were the same age) and she left behind a beautiful daughter and two gorgeous grandsons. She'll be missed something awful.