Funerals, in my mind, are nothing more than pure torture for the love ones of the deceased. As a young child I was forced to attend many funerals of family members. There was always crying, sobbing, and long faces. I can especially remember when my grandmother died. My mother wept through the church service, she wept through the funeral procession, she wept as the coffin was carried to the grave. But she went totally nuts when they lowered the coffin into the grave. I can still hear her screams.

As a very young child, I was sleeping at my aunt's house the night before the funeral of my grandmother. I dreamed that her coffin was beside my bed. It was dark, except for a light at the head of her coffin. There was a small cloth over her face. I tried to remove it without success. I still remember that dream vividly, fifty years later.

That's why I have left instructions for my body to be left to the medical school at the local university. After they finished with it, the body will be cremated. If my body, for some reason, will not be accepted by the university, it will be cremated. There will be no visitation, there will be no memorial service. I will not put my family and friends through the same agony that I had witnessed in the past.

Learn more about this author, Gary Betts.
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