Doug and I worked on our living wills, wills, and power of attorney paperwork the other night. That was a very tough conversation. It's one thing to mention in passing that you want a big party when you die..."just don't piss on my ashes", but to have to sit down and actually type that up and click the buttons is a whole different can of worms (pun intended). What was realy odd was that when Doug was talking about his wishes...I was okay.
But then we came to mine and I couldn't help but start crying. Go figure...until I realized that I sincerely hope that Doug does not outlive me.
And before you start thinking I'm a selfish heinous person, it's because I don't want him to have to go through that. I don't want him to have to go through having me creamated, and seeing an urn in the living room, or whatever room (probably the bathroom - just please don't mistake me for cat litter). The pain of calling out to me and I'm not there. Or missing my touch when we pass by each other, or my voice, or my cold butt/feet on his body in the middle of the night. Or missing me calling out body-parts in German as we lay in bed on Sunday mornings.
I don't want him to feel that sadness...and I only know what kind of sadness he would feel because I would/will feel it when he is gone too and that hurts me more than anything.
I Love You, mein Shatz!
No comments:
Post a Comment