by Andrew Post

Created on: April 19, 2008

My mother does not want her body to be interred in a cemetery. Rather, she wants it to be wrapped up in a shroud, flown by helicopter over the caldera of Mauna Loa in Hawaii, and hurled bodily into its flaming mouth. "I want to be chucked into a volcano" is a phrase I've heard her say many times when the topic of the fate of her mortal remains comes up around the dinner table. (My brother wants his ashes shot into space and my father wants his sprinkled at the headwaters of the Missouri River.) But she still wants a cenotaph in a quiet cemetery somewhere in Illinois. On the headstone, she would like a picture of a morose woman with basset hound eyes, and underneath that, an inscription which reads: "She was hacked off."

I myself don't know whether I want to be put six feet under; right now I'm vacillating between launching myself skyward on a rocket or mixing myself with cement and getting poured into the Caribbean to become an artificial reef. But, like Mom, I want a cenotaph: a nice headstone, nothing large or fancy or monumental. The inscription itself is still up for grabs, however. Every time I see a commercial for Tombstone Pizza (which customarily concludes with the motto "What do you want on your Tombstone?"), I think to myself, "Hmm, I think I'll have the phrase 'PEPPERONI AND MUSHROOMS' carved onto mine." On other occasions, I decide that my headstone will have neither name nor date writ upon it; instead, the epitaph "DO NOT READ THIS" will be carved into its face in large print. More often, though, I decide to leave my headstone blank, with a small plaque at ground level that visitors will have to bend down on their knees to read. And it will say "If you can read this, you're kneeling on my head."

When I visit cemeteries I sometimes feel it's a shame that people pay all that money for a piece of marble that has writing on only one side. "Why do people leave all that blank space on the backs of their headstones? Sheesh, they paid enough for 'em." Imagine, if you will, coming up to a headstone that had the words "WANT TO SEE SOMETHING COOL? LOOK ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THIS HEADSTONE" carved into it. Obediently going around to the other side, you see the words "WANT TO SEE SOMETHING COOL? LOOK ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THIS HEADSTONE" carved there. People familiar with standardized tests such as the SAT or the ACT would likely get a kick out of a grave marker that had the missive "NO WRITING ON THIS HEADSTONE" (and nothing else) chiseled on it.

The possibilities are endless. The larger the headstone and the more humorous the message, then the greater the joke. Envision, if you can, walking up to a gigantic monument, a roughly hewn pedestal crowned with a flying horse with spread wings and an armored rider with drawn sword pointing defiantly at the sky; carved on the pedestal is the phrase "INSERT STIFF HERE" and an arrow pointing downward. Think of walking up to a solemn marble statue of an angel, demurely robed, head bowed, holding a marble tablet inscribed thus: "STOP READING MY EPITAPH." Consider striding up to an imposing mausoleum, pillars and columns standing guard at the entrance with the robed figure of Death, scythe clasped in his skeletal hand; above the door is engraved the words "YOU'RE NEXT."

How do you want to be remembered? Do you want your life to be reduced to your last name and two dates? Or do you want to give your posthumous visitors something to think about, to mull over, or perhaps even to giggle at? That's what it boils down to. The line between going out with style and making an idiot out of your deceased self is not as fine as you've been conditioned to believe. Your epitaph is, in effect, your last word. Make it worthwhile.

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