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Just the other day, a story moved on the wire from The Associated Press that got me thinking … about death.
Sorry to sound so morbid, but hopefully a column about death sprinkled with my humor will certainly enlighten all of us about cremation.
It seems the Vatican published guidelines last week for Catholics who want to be cremated, saying their remains cannot be scattered on unholy ground, or kept at home or divided up among the grieving loved ones who remain. They have to be kept or stored in sacred, church-approved places.
Good thing I am not a practicing Catholic anymore because I have plans.
First of all, I want to be cremated because Iám pretty sure it will be cheaper for my wife and kids. I balance the checkbook at home between the six of us, and trust me, the only one who has enough money to bury me is my son Dominic, who is better at saving for the future than the other five of us combined. However, my other three kids probably have enough information on me personally to bury me … but thatás another column for another day.
What I want after my cremation is to have my ashes divided among Ann Marie and my four kids. That way, they can have a piece of good, old dad with them for the rest of their lives. Now I know what youáre thinking. Do you really want to give a vial, or urn, filled with ashes to kids? Yeah, sure, why not?
The safest thing would be for the kids to just scatter my ashes on the carpet in their bedrooms at home. Letás be honest, none of them ever clean in there. A vacuum is about as foreign to them as the language of Paraguay. I will always be in there if they choose that domain.
Now, if my wife gets a vial of me, I do believe in my heart she will hold on to it, but where she holds on to it is another thing. The woman is constantly on the move in our mini-van, and I canát help but think I will end up in the coffee cup holder between the two front seats, squeezed in between her lip balm and a few coupons for Cafe Lattes from McDonaldás. Thatás fine. Iám not picky. Just donát mistake me for nutmeg and sprinkle a dash on your morning beverage, babe!
If Maggie gets a part of me, I hope it is after she has graduated from IUP. She is currently a junior there, and each spring, when I go to pick her up after school has ended, she comes home with more stuff than what she left with in the fall. And yet, she always loses something. We still havenát found our DVD copy of âCaptain America: The Winter Soldierã that she took with her two years ago. Iád hate to end up on a collegiate yard sale table, mistaken for a lost item on a spice rack.
If you know Julianna and Vincent, there is a good bet that I will end up under a pile of stuff either in their closet or under their bed. Provided they get their own home someday -- and they keep up their regular cleanliness-is-not-next-to-Godliness mantra -- I have a good chance of being with them for eternity.
So just remember when you come to my viewing, donát be shocked by a lack of a coffin. Maybe there will be some sort of giant hour glass dispenser with some leftovers that Ann Marie can hand out to the rest of my family and friends. My horoscope once said I was a very giving person during the month of May. You canát be any more giving than that.
Mirror Sports Writer Scott Franco writes a monthly column for the Mirror.