Ya'll may not know this about me, but I can be a morbid sort of person. I sometimes think about my own death. Not in a creepy or suicidal way, but i do recognize that death is an inevitable part of life and i'm okay with that. I think about how i'd like it to go (i'm a super planner, after all). I wanna die peacefully in my sleep. Old, but not so old that my faculties have started to decay. Pipe dreams, I know. We don't get to choose our own death. We do, however, get to have some input on how we are laid to rest, or so I thought. When a burial request comes to my mind, I make it known to my husband. I figure he'll be in charge of planning my funeral (did i mention that i wanna pre-decease him?). I realize that, looking back on what I just wrote, I must sound kind of creepy but this isn't a regular occurrence in my house or anything. Maybe 4 or 5 times ever. My two biggest requests are to be buried in a specific cemetery in my hometown where most of my family and friends are buried and to "be treated like compost". I just wanted to stay chemical-free and be buried in a something that’d decompose; nothing terribly crazy, and still respectful and fairly traditional, but also low-cost and green. Hanging out at the funeral home last month (mostly an observer of other's grief), I realized that it probably wouldn't be that simple.