Post-Gradudeath Plans

When I went to my grandfather's funeral 2 1/2 weeks ago I didn't realize that it was my grandmothers funeral as well. I never met my grandmother, Jane Dolan Bradford, she died 25 years ago, was then cremated and waited a quarter of a century in a safety deposit box so that she could be laid to rest with my grandfather. I always assumed she was kept in an ornery box above a fireplace or on a well stocked bookshelf, but no, for 25 years she was kept in a heavily guarded shoebox. The thought of traditional burial is absolutely abhorrent to me; being pumped full of chemicals and stuffed into a box covered in chemicals with the intentions that the elements wont get to my lifeless body, and then being lowered into the ground and slowing decomposing/eaten by maggots when pheramaldahyde has become my blood. However I don't know what type of insect has a taste for toxic sludge. All of this taking place after my loved ones have been forced to stare at my posed body for "one last goodbye". It's all so... Creepy. That's why I've always thought cremation was my afterlife path, but if there is any semblance of life after death, I can't imagine being kept in a jar, vase, or in Grandma's Jane case, being kept in a locked box is any better.

About a month ago Vice published an article entitled "Fertilizing Marijuana Plants, and Other Weird Ways to Decay After You Die" which discusses several innovated ways to dispose of your body after death including being cremated and mixed into tattoo ink or allowing your beloved cat to defecate into you(cat litter), and alkaline hydrolysis where your body is submerged into a mixture of water and lye and "broken down into its chemical components(amino acids, peptides, salt, sugars) in liquid form." And, in my opinion, the most enticing option and the articles namesake, being composted and used to fertilize plants. This idea was solidified for me last week when I was working at Mace Chasm Farm. When we went to move the chicken tractors, there happened to be a dead broiler in the field. Jim, my farmhand companion, nonchalantly picked up the limp being by its reptilian claws and plopped it into the back of the gator(a level of death I am not comfortable with). Later, during the rest of our chores it was thrown into the compost pile. As I poked around the pile I found a plethora of other animal bones, from a sheep skull to the hip of a cow, and growing out of the pile was a thriving tomatillo plant(not something you see often) and a squash plant, neither of which were planted on purpose. 

To end I'd like to give a quote from my mother, something she texted me not too long ago, "To plant a garden means you believe in tomorrow" and I can't think of a better way to spend the rest of my eternity than to feed plants, the most beautiful organisms on this Earth, in my opinion. So, my friends, what I'm really trying to say is please, after I die, throw me out back and then once I'm good and decomposed feed me to a marijuana plant and get high as shit. Onno, I'm sorry for any sensitive legal issues with that last sentence. 

http://www.vice.com/read/when-i-die-use-me-to-fertilize-a-marijuana-plant-420

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