Discomfort

I am about to go to the cemetery where my husband's parents are buried.

Since there are two plots and in this current century more than one casket

or cremated remains can be accommodated in each plot I am about to sign

myself into one of the plots, accompanying my in-laws. Never thought this is

what I - we - would do but since the plots are there, paid for and room is there, the decision became easy. And it certainly helps our children when they have to decide what to do with Ma.

My husband has decided to donate his body to science. Since he has been diagnosed with a unique disease - only 60 in a million homosapiens have it and

he is one of the chosen - he has endured many medical challenges. He figures if

some bright medical student can learn something from his body, he is doing

the world family a favor. Only thing is his remains will not be returned to the

family when the students are done their investigations. This is not always true, but he chose his medical school based on his loyalty to a university.

Since he will not be with me or next to me or above me when we are dead, I decided the kindest thing I could do for the kids is settle in where the payment

is already made. I am finding the emotional issues that flood my brain interesting.

I want to be with my family. My family does not have a family plot in California.

I love my in-laws but without my husband I'm the in-law! I am having these odd conversations with myself. And I am also saying, I will be dead. There is room in these two plots for most of our children to join us if they like.

And I then say, You are being ridiculous. This is not a family party you are planning. It is your burial. The family will be pleased you prepaid the reopening of the grave and left money to redo the headstones. Let's get real.

So off I'm going, dealing with my discomfort, not being fearful of this experience.

I hope the cemetery staff has a sense of humor because I have a feeling this will become another funny story about my LAST GIFT BOX.