If anyone happens to ask you, this is a poem I would like read at my (someday, long-far-off) funeral. But you might not make it that day (really, it's okay, I will understand) so I wanted to share it with you now.
Does the road wind uphill all the way?
Yes, to the very end.
Will the day's journey take the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend.
But is there for the night a resting-place?
A roof for when the slow dark hours begin.
May not the darkness hide it from my face?
You cannot miss that inn.
Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?
Those who have gone before.
Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?
They will not keep you standing at that door.
Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?
Of labour you shall find the sum.
Will there be beds for me and all who seek?
Yea, beds for all who come.
-- Christina Rossetti
Also, I do not want a viewing. There's no need for people to lean over my not-there self. I'm much too shy (vain) for that. Just lots of music and poetry and maybe a New Orleans-style brass band to send bring in some lightness and joy. That would be good.
p.s. Maudlin? Macabre? I guess I'm just feeling the uphill today. I also love this one:
And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.
~ Raymond Carver