Chrisonomicon

Thursday, April 17, 2003

I drove my dad to the hospital this morning for a minor surgical procedure, and as I drew in the growing dawn from the sloping mountain side that envelops the hospital, he discussed things that would need to be taken care of "if anything were to happen." Cremation is the departure method of choice. Step two is to, at some point, collect my mom's ashes in Oklahoma and bring them to Colorado where they could be placed somewhere together, along with my dad's mom. ("Where's grampa?" "Actually, my mom scattered his ashes in the Atlantic." "Really? Cool." "Not really. I wish she had talked to me about it first." Well, if it was what he wanted... shouldn't you grant him the same right you expect me to grant you?). Pay the bills after that -- there's plenty of insurance -- part goes to the church, part to his sister, part to my step-mom, Derek and I split the remainder. No lengthy stays in this world as a vegetable; pull the plug at a reasonable time. It occured to me that I could do this. And then I realized I'm just like my dad: I can take on anything, I have everything under control. I relaxed my grip on the steering wheel and let my shoulders slide, reminding myself that this was all remote, hypothetical talk and we'd be going home together in a few short hours. When did death become just another part of life? I like the fact that our family has never been afraid to discuss it, confront it, treat it like it is -- just something we deal with.