We all hate talking about death, yet we all know it’s coming … sooner or later.
While sitting in a funeral home conference room, helping a good friend get through the death of her mother, her 42-year-old sister made the statement that she’s ready to go. She clarified that she wasn’t suicidal, wasn’t going to do anything dangerous and that she was prepared to live on.
Her rationale was that she’s had a great life thus far, and since she’s right spiritually, she has no fear of the great unknown called death.
But I’ll be honest, I’m not ready to call it quits and I doubt if I will be any time soon.
So why does this involve travel?
Because former Baltimore Orioles manager Earl Weaver died last weekend while cruising the Caribbean.
And since I absolutely love cruising, I can think of no better place to meet my maker than on a luxurious cruise … preferably right after scarfing down a tasty surf and turf of lobster and prime rib, washed down with a nice glass of White Zinfandel.
I’m sure Weaver didn’t plan on dying on his cruise. He began choking after dinner on Friday night and that was it. Purely by accident.
For years I’ve known where I want my final resting place to be. My loved ones are aware that I want to be cremated and my ashes scattered at sea.
But there’s more to it than that. Instead of mourning me, I want it to be a celebration. The plan is for them to go on a cruise during my birthday week … no matter when I died. If my time comes in January, I still want the ceremony to take place in September. That way they’ll have time to mourn, and then enjoy the rest of their cruise … on me.
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