On the way to dinner at the Longhorn in Portland this evening, we drove past a crematorium in Gorham. My dear wife said, "I think that is where I will have you cremated."
WHOA!!!! Where did THAT come from? My first reaction was, "Can I assume you will wait for me to die?"
I explained I was not exactly comfortable with a conversation that starts with the presumption of me being dead. But I did mention to her that there did not seem to be much parking for mourners. And I mentioned that, just maybe, a bunch of the "car show" folks might want to attend. Some, to pay their respects. Others, like the Sanford Elks or the Belgrade Fire Department, to make sure I was really gone and wasn't coming back.
Robin thought for a moment, then replied, "You know, you may have something there, Honey. If we choose a place with lots of parking, we could hold a car show at the same time as your wake. We could even have a 50/50 raffle to help pay for the funeral." I thought, what does she mean by "we"?
Right about then I thought about canceling my life insurance policy, to eliminate any financial inducement to rush me into an urn on the mantle. This whole conversation was (caution, bad pun ahead) getting me burned up.
But I know my Sweetie loves me. And she wants me to stick around for awhile. She's just being practical. But in the future, I have requested she be practical in a less vocal manner. Go ahead and plan for my demise, but just don't include me in the conversation.
And to think, all my other ex-wives only divorced me!
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