People go weird when you talk about dying. They don't want to.
Works for me. I was in the middle of a nasty divorce when my 30th high school reunion rolled around. I knew people were going to ask the inevitable:"Where's your wife?" And I didn't want to put a pall on the evening discussing The Plaintiff. So I hit upon this alternative when classmates asked: "Where's the wife?"
Nobody wanted to talk about death. Clink. Party on.
I am fairly serious about death. Gotta be, I figure. Gonna happen. Might as well prepare a little. But it's frustrating because so many people find the subject uncomfortable. Case in point -- where is YOUR will?
Recently, I freaked out the doctor who implanted my pacemaker/defibrillator a few years back. Fortunately, my defibrillator has never fired off but I hear they kick like a mule and can knock you to the ground. So I asked my doctor: how do I die? I don't want to lay in the street, flopping.
He just walked away. I couldn't determine whether he was laughing or having convulsions.
(Footnote: when I told my better half I was blogging about my death, she said that would certainly please a lot of people.)
So, let's talk more of this in the future. OK. But before we leave the subject here's a true story from a recent seminar on death and dying. The young moderator thought he would open with a shocking statement: "How do you want to die?" he asked the audience.
And 86-year-old woman stood up and shouted: "In Tom Selleck's arms."