Why are
people afraid to talk about death? I am not. It's part of life. An essential
part of life. Without death we would be overrun by people and animals. I am not
afraid to die either. Mr Husband and I discuss it a lot. We have to because I
am bi polar and days are so bad sometimes I cannot see anything else in front
of me. I feel so alone most of the time that I think death would be a pleasant
alternative. I have told Mr Husband I want to be a tree when I die. Not a nut
tree or a fruit tree- or a little tree. I have spent all my life being short. I
want to be a big tree - the biggest in the forest. It would be nice for a
change not having to reach up to get the beans off the top shelf in the
cupboard. Anyway, according to mines Mr Husband trees don't eat beans. How
would he know? Just because you have never seen something happen doesn't mean
it doesn't.
Mines Mr
Husband indulges me in talking about death. I think about it a lot. I don't
think he is terribly comfortable with it. But in event of my death I need to
know someone will ensure I become a tree. He asked if I will send feathers
from heaven to assure him of my presence. 'No I won't' I tell him. 'I shall
send feckin fire crackers to ensure you move your arse out that chair occasionally'.
I told him
he doesn't have to tell anyone when I die. Obviously he will have to tell the
authorities- but lets face it no one is going to notice if I am dead or alive. Eventually
someone will do their family tree and discover my name on the BMD indexes. And
you can imagine the conversation can't you?
'Oooh
there's our Beth. She died it says here in 2015. Well I never knew that. I
wondered why we never had a Christmas card from her the last few years. I
thought it was cos she was too tight to buy stamps. Well blow me, I wonder what
she died from'. (Well I tell ye now it will be a feckin overdose of loneliness
and misery.)
Then they
will continue with this: 'Oooh I wonder if that bloke she was married to is
still alive, whatshisname? Oh feckin hell what is?. Little chap with a bald
head and a limp. Did he have a limp? Well he used to make a nice loaf of bread.
And he could do wonders with a computer. Wonder what happened to him. Now where
did they live? Was it down South somewhere.? In Devon or Cornwall. I think she may have sent me the
address one time. Don't know what I done with it. Went that way quite and few
times and went past their house I think. I wonder if he still lives there.
Didn't he used to work at that airport? Oh that's gone now though. They pulled
that down ages ago. I bet he is remarried now- he is bound to be remarried by
now. Oh yeah look here it is (looks at BMD indexes again)- yeah he remarried
three weeks after she died. Well he didn't let the grass grow under his feet
did he? I wonder why he didn't tell us she died. Or did he? We could have
thought about going to her funeral if only we had known. Although we probably
wouldn't have. She was a nice old thing. Funny Old stick. Won't speak ill of
the dead mind, but she was a bit of a misery ass. Not a lot of use to anyone.
Bit sad really. I wonder where she is buried. I could put those details on me
tree if only I knew!
The worse
thing about the above conversation is that it isn't a million miles from the
conversations we have all had about people in the past. The saddest thing about
it is that this conversation will take place between the closest people to me
because they won't know I am dead unless My Husband tells them. I have
instructed him not to tell anyone. So if you don't hear of it happening you
probably won't know. That way everyone can get on with their lives just as they
are with no interruptions. Part of me would like to say to them- think about
the part you played in my life- and think about the part you played in my death
but cos you all surely have. And make sure no one else dies in loneliness like I
because you have neglected them.
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