I didn’t really care about what would happen to my body when my time came to die. After all, I would quip, I won’t be there to know what is happening to "me" anyways! When you’re dead – you’re dead – so it didn’t really matter to me.
My husband Joey’s death changed everything. He was cremated according to his wishes. Suddenly, I felt something. I had a very strong feeling that cremation was a terrible mistake. Call me crazy, lonely, whatever. But the truth is that for the first time in my life, I started to think of the spirit. The soul. I’ve since read a lot, and thought a lot about the subject. There are many practical reasons to choose burial. For me, I just had – and have – this strong feeling in my gut that the soul wants to be buried. It’s too late for my husband Joey, but not for me. I know for sure now.
I figure if I am really dead, burial won’t matter anyway. If I choose cremation, and my soul is in pain, eternity is a long time to suffer.