Everybody is going to die. Humans are simply not comfortable talking about the only thing we are absolutely certain is absolutely inevitable. Death is coming down the track and it is not going to miss a single one of us.
We may, with our technological advancement in medicine, be able to delay it. With our scientific and medical progress we may well succeed in extending human life so that the average human being who does not live in a failed state could reasonably expect to live into his seventies and, with adequate financial resources, may even live into his nineties. It does not really matter how skillful we become at outmaneuvering death, keeping it at bay with our understanding of how to prolong our living, one day the hand of death is going to reach out and simply take us away.
I am not fearful of death. I see death as nothing more than sleep from which I'll never be awakened, forever unaffected by all the burdens, damage, stresses, pains and dangers that we encounter every single day of living on this planet. But being unafraid of death does not mean I am going to run toward it either, and I marvel at those who take the types of risk with their lives that I find unnecessary.
So I have made arrangements for my funeral, and yes, I expect, in a Christian society, to be laid out in a church; that is, provided I do not die in some tragic circumstance where this may not be possible. Whatever the case, though, I still hope for some type of Christian related assembly where the religion to which I was born and raised, and which I spent a good section of my life advocating be accounted for.
The Hymn " Master the tempest is raging.... the winds and the waves shall obey thy will peace be still...." by a choir or by the congregation of friends and well-wishers must be sung, otherwise I guarantee that I will rise up from the bier long enough to make a big fuss about it, and then go right back immediately to my long eternal sleep.
I want no preached sermon over my dead body. None whatsoever. I wish no Minister telling anyone of my friends how bad they have lived their lives and where that are going when, like me, they lie silent in the grave. I will have my own recording of what I want said in my own voice played from a pen drive for the hearing of the people who come from far and near to say their eternal goodbyes to me.
I want poetry and drama.
I have already directed the drama club to dramatize the day we traveled to Nevis for the purpose of advertising one of our plays,when Kenisha Isles and Trezika Pitt thought it best to risk their lives by driving away my car.
After this, my friend can do whatever they wish to do with my body, for I would have lived a marvelously wonderful life.
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