Before you’re even born baby Rangirl your mother’s family and I were discussing death arrangements. I guess the breakfast convos grow bleak as you get older. You continue to discuss your Teletubbie episodes (or whatever it is that kids watch these days) and leave the adult topics to us.

Whatever I say today will not influence anything tomorrow. If daddy dies, you be sure that he is either buried or cremated. Look at me saying “if” I die. Oh how we shelter our youth. Future Offspring, daddy isn’t going to be around forever and you’re going to have to get rid of the body. Don’t worry, I’ll ascend into a farm in the sky where A.J. the cat and a bunch of your goldfish now reside.

Back to the task at hand. White Grandpa wants burial, and I believe white Grandma prefers cremation? Or vice versa. Hmm I hope we don’t get that wrong when the time comes. Mommy and brown Grandma seems to favor cremation herself. Daddy however, requests you guys go with the cheapest route. If that means burying me in the backyard legally, then so be it. If you burn me along with the raked Autumn leaves, I’m cool with that.

All I ask is that you have everyone come back to the house and play some music in my honor. Play some of those Weezer and Guns N Roses songs you always claimed to hate. Oh and I want bagpipes. I know that’s barely even in the heritage of mommy’s Irish roots as those Scots adopted the pipes more, but I want pipes. Don’t disappoint me else I’ll come back and haunt you till I gets me m’ pipes, lass.

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