Do not let this photograph deceive you – it really is a pretty picture (taken from my balcony), but I didn’t really have anything else that fits with this post. Today at work we all sat down and ate some delish snacky food from Woolies and had a good old natter. I’m not really sure how this came about, but I suddenly remembered about story from my childhood … It amuses me so I thought I would share it and perhaps it’ll give you a bit more insight as to how my brain functions … or perhaps not!
My father is a methodist minister (4th generation he’ll tell ya) and this made for an interesting childhood. Besides the numerous Sunday school lessons and plays, confirmation Sundays (and teas that accompanied them – quite possibly a new post all together), angelic ministers daughter behaviour (which I’m sure from this blog you’ve realised I still maintain on a daily basis) and and and I have been to more weddings and funerals than I can remember. This has led me to have I suppose an interesting understanding of death. From early on I understood that this was just part of the cycle of life. Saturdays growing up generally included at least 1 service and I used to stay at the back of the church being looked after by Charlie who would always ask me if I wanted to go and “check out the dead”, I’d always been keen and I’d always forget that in Charlie’s culture it was rude not to touch a dead body when you were paying your respects. So I’m really comfortable with death. My sister on the other hand is slightly opposite – obviously the countless times she was plonked on top of the coffin in the hearse and sat waving at the people shouting greetings of “hello” didn’t lend her the same sense of humour I have with regards to this natural life occurrence. Mini back story given, lets get back to the one I remembered earlier …
Before I went to school, so I think that makes me about 4 or 5 I decided to take a survey. I went around to all the adults otherwise known as important big people in my life and calmly asked them the following question “when you die, do you want to ash or do you want to rot?” At the time I didn’t realise that to some this might be a shocking (read disturbing) question for a tiny little blonde haired blue eyed girl to be asking but for me I was just really interested. At the end of the week I was apparently very proud to go up to my mom and tell her my results “Mom, do you know that more people want to ash than they want to rot”. I mean can you handle it? I’m sure my parents had a good old giggle at that one as I am today. My point is that there is humour in even the most somber of topics … try to find that in your everyday!
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