Why do you think funeral companies advertise their services and try to reverently advise you to pay in advance of your death, for them to put your existance to rest. I ask this with a bit of cheekiness but realistically if you feel you have nobody maybe "self care" is a somewhat satisfying option. I think about this a lot, just can't bring myself to pay upfront, but my "will" for the end of my earth journey will be specified in a document even though it is less important than my eternal journey.
I often wonder what people might think if they read my journals?! I think I might burn them lol. Lots of scathing thoughts I wouldn't want anyone to read. Maybe it's a good thing my penmanship is so bad.
I spent six years winding up my first husband's business, house, possessions, everything. It felt like I spent much of that time climbing out from under rubble. Sometimes I look around the house I live in now, full of things I enjoy having but am confident will end up in a thrift store or a dumpster when I'm gone, and I feel a quirky sense of peace. I like my stuff. But it's just stuff. Otherwise, my affairs are in order. I don't want anybody to have to spend much time or energy dealing with the detritus of a life from which I've moved on.
I made a couple of announcement type posts on Facebook, but every once in a while someone will show up in her message inbox that does not know, so I do write them back. And there's one thing she did every month as a reflection of her Scottish heritage. She found a picture of a rabbit and posted it with the message, Rabbits, Rabbits, Rabbits. I had no idea how many people waited to see this digital wish of good luck until the first month it wasn't there. After that I posted a bunny pic on the first and people were happy again.
This brings up so many memories of Hubbys sister who was 27 when she passed. Meanwhile, you must know you will have very sad friends left behind. Maybe one will be like my step ma who is a hoarder. An old friend of hers passed and she refused to toss out a box of her useless items— ie: old birthday cards, a torn scarf. She finally opened the box and found a black widow making a home. She got rid of the spider and still has the box.
Why do you think funeral companies advertise their services and try to reverently advise you to pay in advance of your death, for them to put your existance to rest. I ask this with a bit of cheekiness but realistically if you feel you have nobody maybe "self care" is a somewhat satisfying option. I think about this a lot, just can't bring myself to pay upfront, but my "will" for the end of my earth journey will be specified in a document even though it is less important than my eternal journey.
I often wonder what people might think if they read my journals?! I think I might burn them lol. Lots of scathing thoughts I wouldn't want anyone to read. Maybe it's a good thing my penmanship is so bad.
I spent six years winding up my first husband's business, house, possessions, everything. It felt like I spent much of that time climbing out from under rubble. Sometimes I look around the house I live in now, full of things I enjoy having but am confident will end up in a thrift store or a dumpster when I'm gone, and I feel a quirky sense of peace. I like my stuff. But it's just stuff. Otherwise, my affairs are in order. I don't want anybody to have to spend much time or energy dealing with the detritus of a life from which I've moved on.
I made a couple of announcement type posts on Facebook, but every once in a while someone will show up in her message inbox that does not know, so I do write them back. And there's one thing she did every month as a reflection of her Scottish heritage. She found a picture of a rabbit and posted it with the message, Rabbits, Rabbits, Rabbits. I had no idea how many people waited to see this digital wish of good luck until the first month it wasn't there. After that I posted a bunny pic on the first and people were happy again.
This brings up so many memories of Hubbys sister who was 27 when she passed. Meanwhile, you must know you will have very sad friends left behind. Maybe one will be like my step ma who is a hoarder. An old friend of hers passed and she refused to toss out a box of her useless items— ie: old birthday cards, a torn scarf. She finally opened the box and found a black widow making a home. She got rid of the spider and still has the box.