Plot Twists

Lyna: my link between this world and the next

It's not a long story, so I won't cut it short. My parents, bless their pointy little heads (my father has gone to the Great Red Sox Stadium in the sky) never signed on to the concept of actually getting BURIED. No, for them, it was off to the Neptune Society to get broiled into ashes (my beef with that is how the FUCK do you know for sure you're getting your loved one's ashes instead of some cardboard boxes they burned the day before?) and then put in some jar or something. My dad made his wish that he sit near the TV with a Red Sox cap on his urn, so that's exactly what happened. He sits next to my eldest brother, who died of MD ten years ago, a dog and a couple of cats. And that's what my mother wants done with her.

Where I might be buried (click to enlarge!)

How goddamn demeaning! To me that's the lowest of the low. I want to be buried. Not because I'm religious or anything, but I want my remains to be eaten by beetles and grubs and worms and larvae and feed the earth and its denizens, and feed the roots of the grass that grows above me on the roof . . . to "wake up" every day to a soft rain or a cold sun or a foot of snow . . . not sit next to some jabbering TV in someone's living room!

So my "plot" is to GET a plot. Get a plot in a cemetery way before I die, so I can go visit it, so I can go see where I'm going to be for eternity, or at least until my atoms disperse sufficiently -- to visit my own grave and talk to my future dead self, to get used to where I'll be for a long, long time . . . when I'm on my deathbed, or whatever my last conscious thoughts are going to be, I'm going to be reassured, knowing exactly where I'm going. A place I've been many, many times before! Isn't that a great thought?

What it looks like now

There just happens to be a cemetery literally across the street from my building, Cimitière Nôtre-dame-des-Neiges.

So I emailed the administration and arranged a meeting to find out what getting a plot entailed . . . and it turns out to be great! For about $3,600 I get my own lot for 100 years. I have to make a 30% down payment, which I can't come up with right now, but then I'd pay around $50 a month for five years (no interest!) until I'd be paid off. That is just the deal of the century!

Another view

Ya like it? It could be mine!

So . . . today I went to meet the sales person, who turned out to be a charming former embalmer named Lyna, and I got a ride to where my plot might be . . . it was great! I took the opportunity to take a picture of some monstrous monument and Photoshop in my name. Hey, ya never know! I might be a bigwig one day!!!