Six feet.

I went to a funeral today. It's got me thinking about death. I feel like Maude. The only yellow umbrella surrounded by mourning black umbrellas.

It's odd, planning a funeral for someone who is still alive. Asking a breathing man what kind of flowers he wants when he's six feet beneath the ground. Getting his opinion on what songs should be sung while he's deaf and dead in a closed casket. I can't imagine how badly it must have terrified him, having people swarm around, busy planning his ceremony of death.

I'm not asking for too much when I die, but I want to be cremated. I want to be planted with a seed to grow a tree. Maybe my bones will grow with a tree someday, and when someone cuts it down, they'll see and they'll know.

I want to donate anything I can to save others. I want to give my eyes to somebody who needs it. Maybe if they have my eyes, they'll dream of my memories, they can see what I saw when their eyes are shut.