by Tami Erickson

Created on: April 19, 2009

It took me longer to find the perfect burial dress than it did my wedding dress. I could see it in my mind, white cotton, soft and loose-fitting. As silly as it sounded when I said it out loud, it was important to me to choose it myself and not leave that burden to my children.

Choosing the music was easier as there are five specific songs that reflect who I am, who I was as I journeyed through life. Depending on how many more years I live, I may add to that list, but I think the ones I burned onto a CD, carefully labeled as "Funeral Songs" will be adequate.

As for a service, it should be simple and joyous. I am spiritual, but not religious, and a gentle memorial service is all that's required. I know there will be tears and sorrow from those I leave behind but I would prefer they celebrate my life instead of grieve my death.

Morbid? No, practical.

I was dragged to numerous funerals of family and friends from as early back as I can remember. They were solemn affairs with everyone dressed in black, filling the churches and funeral parlors with quiet sobs or silent tears. Death was just another part of life, the funerals unpleasant events that we were obligated to attend.

I never gave any of it much thought and was never a part of the arrangements. I just showed up to the dim-lit parlors filled with the aroma of floral arrangements and walked quietly behind my parents as we shuffled in the line past an open coffin to see the beloved deceased one last time. I came to despise the quiet comments, "Oh, she looks so good, they did a nice job."

I wanted to turn and scream at those people, "She's dead! How can you say she looks good?" Of course I never did, but I began to wonder if those people ever complimented her on how well she looked while she was still alive. As much as I hoped they had, a feeling in the pit of my stomach told me they hadn't. It made me sad and I knew I did not want to be put on display like that after I was dead.

I was fifteen when my oldest brother was killed in a car crash. Unfortunately my family was somewhat dysfunctional and the decisions that should have been made by the adults in my family were not. Instead, the burden fell on my shoulders by default.

I didn't realize how many decisions had to be made; burial, mausoleum or cremation? What should they include in the obit and what newspapers did I want the obit to run in? Who would be the pall bearers? What suit did I want on the deceased? How would I like the flowers arranged? The list of questions

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