Peaches Geldof dies aged 25

**Dorahacky** · April 26th, 2014, 10:11 AM

I want to be composted and have a tree planted with me:

Ecological burial involves freeze-drying, composting the corpse

**Belt Up** · April 26th, 2014, 10:25 AM

May as well just burn me, I'm going to hell anyways

**rockchick** · April 26th, 2014, 11:01 AM

cremation and tossed into ocean for me. Known this since I was a kid. Cannot go into ground.

**Heidi Ho** · April 26th, 2014, 11:13 AM

Originally Posted by rockchick

cremation and tossed into ocean for me. Known this since I was a kid. Cannot go into ground.

Same here.

**twitchy2.0** · April 26th, 2014, 11:38 AM

I'd go for dismemberment and being scattered in dumpsters around town just to mess with the cops.

**sprynkles** · April 26th, 2014, 11:56 AM

You can have your ashes put into glass art. Kind of cool I think.

**Karistiona** · April 26th, 2014, 12:08 PM

I'm going to be made into a diamond and in my will I'm going to state that wee sis has to wear me every day.

**Flygirl** · April 26th, 2014, 01:13 PM

Ok, this is going to sound really irreverent, but what the hell. My half brother passed away suddenly a year and a half ago. His mother thought I would want some of the ashes so she just kind of forced them on me without asking. (no, I did not want them) At the service, she gave me this beautiful urn with some of the ashes in it. How do you reject that tactfully? It's not that they scare me or anything, I just really don't want them, because now I feel like I have to be all reverent about them, when what I really want to do is just get rid of them. I just don't feel that what made my brother my brother is anywhere in that jar. The soul moves on and the body is just a vessel no longer needed in my beliefs. My immediate family and I just really don't care what they do with our corpses. Donate whatever organs you can, let science use the rest, and toss whatever's left when it comes to my body.

Well, without meaning for it to drag on so long, he's still sitting on our washing machine, which you see right when you walk into our "family" entrance. My kids as toddlers heard me say "What's up, Flygirl brother?" one day and now every time they come into the house they say, "What's up, Uncle Flygirl brother?" I've got to do something with it. If he is up in heaven, I know he's laughing his ass off at me because he always used to make fun of how I'd never get anything done. This story sounds horrifying for a bunch of strangers, who don't know me. I'm sorry, it's really not as bad as it sounds. I swear.

**twitchy2.0** · April 26th, 2014, 01:29 PM

Did he have some favorite spot? Maybe you could ask his mom if she'd mind if you scattered them there?

**sprynkles** · April 26th, 2014, 02:23 PM

I think its hilarious that you have him on the washer Flygirl. It's kind of sweet. He's not in some dark box in a closet.

**manningmsj** · April 26th, 2014, 02:52 PM

Originally Posted by Flygirl

Ok, this is going to sound really irreverent, but what the hell. My half brother passed away suddenly a year and a half ago. His mother thought I would want some of the ashes so she just kind of forced them on me without asking. (no, I did not want them) At the service, she gave me this beautiful urn with some of the ashes in it. How do you reject that tactfully? It's not that they scare me or anything, I just really don't want them, because now I feel like I have to be all reverent about them, when what I really want to do is just get rid of them. I just don't feel that what made my brother my brother is anywhere in that jar. The soul moves on and the body is just a vessel no longer needed in my beliefs. My immediate family and I just really don't care what they do with our corpses. Donate whatever organs you can, let science use the rest, and toss whatever's left when it comes to my body.
.
Well, without meaning for it to drag on so long, he's still sitting on our washing machine, which you see right when you walk into our "family" entrance. My kids as toddlers heard me say "What's up, Flygirl brother?" one day and now every time they come into the house they say, "What's up, Uncle Flygirl brother?" I've got to do something with it. If he is up in heaven, I know he's laughing his ass off at me because he always used to make fun of how I'd never get anything done. This story sounds horrifying for a bunch of strangers, who don't know me. I'm sorry, it's really not as bad as it sounds. I swear.

This is completely O/T, but your story reminds me of my grandfather's death. He died when I was around six from brain cancer (62 years old). He came to live with us from Florida when he got too forgetful and my parents set him up in the first floor bedroom (which was theirs at one time, but we were in the process of reno so I can't remember if they had the new one yet or just shared with us). That room is now the dining room. Anyway, he died at home in there. For some reason or another (and it's weird too since my dad works in the appliance business), we ended up hanging on to the TV that was in there for a long time. It was used in my mom's bedroom for at least a decade after and because of its age, had a tendency to flicker on and off. Everytime it did, we would joke that it was Grandpa. It wasn't a morbid thing to us kids; I remember thinking it was kinda neat and it tempered my sadness that he was gone. Even once I was old enough to realize it wasn't his spectral self messing with us, I continued to joke when it would happen, like, "hey Grandpa, knock it off. I was watching that." Made me feel like he wasn't totally gone.

Anyway, also because our house is old and prone to its quirks, often the dimmer switch in the dining room would drop and the lights would suddenly go off. This was of course the room he died in, so again we made the same joke. Beginning around the time I hit 12 or 13 until the end of highschool, I used to have two of my closest friends over every Friday night for a standing sleepover. I'm still really close with one of them and he recently told me about this. I guess one night I mentioned the flickering lights/TV issue to them and told them not to freak out because it was just my dead Gramps messing with them. I then promptly passed out. Little did I know the story had frightened my friends to the core. They would go on to spend every sleepover shaking beneath the blankets, whispering over my sleeping form, and planning their exit strategy should my evil grandfather's ghost try to attack them. Whoops.

**CornFlakegrl** · April 26th, 2014, 03:01 PM

My MIL is in a box in a corner chair in my kitchen.

**effie2** · April 26th, 2014, 03:43 PM

You know we Greeks dont have the cremating option?Bury you they do...take you out 3 years later,keep your leftovers in a metal box for some more years then they destroy said leftovers and you re truly gone!

**Bombshell** · April 26th, 2014, 03:46 PM

Originally Posted by effie2

You know we Greeks dont have the cremating option?Bury you they do...take you out 3 years later,keep your leftovers in a metal box for some more years then they destroy said leftovers and you re truly gone!

Fascinating!

Is there any kind of gathering or celebration or mourning or anything when they take you out after three years? Or is it something that's done very quietly?

**Icepik** · April 26th, 2014, 03:59 PM

Originally Posted by effie2

You know we Greeks dont have the cremating option?Bury you they do...take you out 3 years later,keep your leftovers in a metal box for some more years then they destroy said leftovers and you re truly gone!

Don't the male relatives have to clean the bones of the deceased after they exhume the body? That's what I was told when I attended the funeral of a Greek friend of my ex husband.

Completely curious... why is there a three year waiting period, and how do they destroy the final remains?