It was a sunny day yesterday and hot by the time it was 1o a.m. I walked to church in this extreme weather and I thought it’s a good day to die. Walking to church takes me 30 minutes but with the heat, it took longer. I felt so sluggish and the heat slows me down. I can’t remember the last time I was at this church. As I recall, it was a funeral. Here I am again, going to attend to another funeral. Sigh, another dearly departed. At my age, I am starting to resign, no, accept is a better word; accept the fact that one by one, in my inner circle, death is just around the corner. It’s a good day to die, I vocalized it this time with my family. My family is used to the morbid way I speak. Then I struck a conversation about being buried. This is the first time I am going to an Italian and Filipino funeral. So far so good, it’s very civilized. Niece #2 mentioned that she had been to a Portuguese funeral and there are so much drama. Well, there won’t be any drama in my funeral, for sure. I want a party! This body will be cremated. Said I. Niece #1’s face lit up and asked me: Can I keep some ashes and put you beside the astray while I smoke. We are both smoker and we had so many good conversations over a cup of tea and a smoke. Or can I sprinkle your ashes in my garden since you love gardening, she added. Sure why not but you have to ask permission, I said. Her Mom interjected in our conversation that it is unacceptable in the Catholic tradition to keep some ashes for memorabilia or spread it around. It must be buried in the cemetery. So much for that brilliant idea. In the cemetery, our dearly departed was buried in a Mausoleum. Her site is on the fourth level. When the service was finished, I roamed around checking out the rows and high-rise cemetery to get an idea how the cremated ones are kept. This is what I found and how I want it to be when they bury me. Of course, the writings will be in English with a couple of additions: a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.