A Meditation on Death

When I die, I don’t want to be put in a box and buried in the ground. Burn me up. Incinerate me. Make me into ashes.

I don’t want you to make a memorial for me. No marble markers; no bronze plaques. Just take my ashes and toss them to the wind. Let them be scattered to the ends of the earth and beyond into the farthest reaches of the universe. Let life be my memorial.

Please don’t cry and mourn over me. Don’t think of me as having left. Don’t think of me as having gone to some realm of the dead. I will not be there if I can help it. Think of me in the life you see around you. Think of me in the glory of creation. This is where I want to be.

Think of my ashes all around you. In the air you breathe, the water you drink, in all you see before you. I will be there. I will be with you in all you do. I will share in all your triumphs and failures, all your joy and sadness. For all this is part of life and I will be there.

And when humanity is dead and gone, and all the memorials have crumbled, and another species has emerged to claim the glory of life on this planet, we will all be ashes. We will all be there, still dancing in the sun. And at the end of time, when the universe reclaims this planet and all her sisters, we will be there in the dust and debris, to ride the stillness of space. And when the time is right, and this world re-emerges and life begins again, we will be back, to go right on dancing and rejoicing. We will live in life itself.

February 24, 1993