I used to not care at all what becomes of my physical remains. After a family member passed away that changed. It's not that I care what becomes of what's left of me--I don't (cremate and dispose)--but I do want my family to have somewhere to go that they associate with me. How's this for a sick thought: it's a little like returning to Camp Randall in the fall. I'm perfectly happy watching the Badgers on TV (or not), but there is a set of emotions that go with being there--and it being a place people want to be, or at least want a reason to return to.
So this family member of mine had her name added to a "family" plot in a city that most of us will never have a reason to return to. And it's a distant branch of the family to which I feel like we have tenuous connections. Why? Who will ever go there and remember her and how she was a part of our lives? I would like my family to see my name somewhere and think about who I was and what role I had in their lives. But I don't want to take up a lot of space, because in two to three generations, I won't have any lasting legacy, nothing more than a soundbyte and not one that has much real meaning. I'm fine with that, but in the meantime, I want my kids, potential grandkids, and maybe even great grandkids to think about me.
So I guess I really do care. I want my name on a marker of some kind, but it can be rather insignificant, alongside my wife's name, somewhere relatively close to the city my wife and I live in. And I'd like a bit of my ashes sprinkled in the Emmigrant Wilderness in the Stanislaus National Forest in California.
