Deathwishes

I just watched a movie where a girl's father dies, but all characters bravely soldier on without him. They cannot pause to shed a tear as they are in a life-or-death battle, and all efforts must focus on survival. Fair enough.

But then, later, anytime the man's wife or daughter pause to consider weeping, or wondering if their brave soldier faces are somehow disrespectful to his memory -- I mean, shouldn't they be grieving? -- someone swoops in, and assures them that it's ok: "It's what he would have wanted! He would have wanted you to carry on!"

FYI, that is not what I would have wanted. If I die tomorrow, I do not want you to carry on.

I mean, I don't want anyone throwing themselves off a cliff or anything, but is a little grief too much to expect? Could you just wear black for a few days and have a few drinks in my memory? Not go to class? Cancel other appointments? I think it's just a sign of our culture's inability to deal with death that we're so quick to sweep it under the carpet with, "The sooner you get back to normal the better! The show must go on!"

I also like this notion that I can dictate behavior from the grave. Like, does anyone care about what I want now? Is anyone currently planning an all-expenses-paid, year-long trip around the world for me, which, I tell you, is what I would have wanted? I think not. Yet when I die, oh, then suddenly "what he would have wanted" matters? And what I would have wanted just happens to coincide with what you feel like doing anyway? What about a cup of shutthefuckup?

I am going back to the States soon and my usual airplane paranoia is kicking in. (I'm always convinced I'm going to die on an airplane -- or traveling somehow, even though I'm more likely to die by slipping in the shower one morning and hitting the back my head on the floor.) I'm afraid of people putting words in my mouth after it's too late for me to argue and complain, so feel I need to get this down now, while I'm still alive:

If you have a vacation planned, and I die and my family inconveniently schedules my funeral right smack in the middle of your vacation, guess what? You're not to carry on! Because it's not what I would have wanted. What I want is your inconsolable ass standing next to my, by the way, cremated corpse, crying your eyes out, or at least looking terribly disgruntled. This last request should be easy since you just cancelled your vacation.

Whatever you are doing, just stop. I'm dead. I have no time left. You, on the other hand, have plenty of time, and it would be nice if you spent it not carrying on but shaking your fist at the sky, screaming, "Why, God, why? He was truly an archangel too good for this world! I cannot carry on!" And then, feel free to carry on... after some days. Weeks sound good, too.

I know it would be generous and kind to relieve my friends and family of their duty to stop their lives and grieve for five minutes. I just don't want to.