Fixing stuff, myself included…
My father “passed away,” about 6 months ago. “Passed away,” is defined in Webster’s as going out of existence. He died. I brought his ashes home from the anatomy board last week.
What? Wait a minute. You said six months ago. Where were the ashes all this time?
He donated his body to science; he wasn’t cremated until recently.
Yikes! How do you feel, or what do you think about donating a body to science?
On my way downtown, all I could think about was, “dad in a box.” Then I thought about my mother’s death. Our family on a sailboat, spreading her ashes over the bay. She also donated her body to science. However; since my father was alive when she died, he received her ashes. So I didn’t think about, “mom in a box.” But now… it’s:
tick toc, tick toc mom in a box
tick toc, tick toc dad in a box
tick toc, tick toc…
So are you going to donate your body to science?
I don’t know about my body. tick toc, tick toc…
What are you going to do with your father’s ashes?
When spring comes, he can swim in the bay with my mother. For now he’s in the box on top of my dresser, and I speak to him when I notice the box.
What if you still need your body after you’re dead?
I don’t know why you ask questions like that. Who knows if we’ll need our bodies after we die? Will there be “anyone home?” Will consciousness, (the I of me) exist somewhere? That nebulous idea of me. Who knows? See, a question like that, only leads to more questions. But, then again isn’t life a question?; we spend a “lifetime” trying to answer.
Oh dear, I sense you are going to start talking about time travel again.
Maybe…