After your last lap

I don't care. After all signs of life are gone, what's left is not me anymore, just a collection of organic material. I won't be around anymore to know what happens. My sister will get my money, I'm sure she'll have me cremated and put my ashes on the ground.

I came to this after what happened to the body of my Grandma. The crematorium in North Georgia was tossing bodies into shallow graves instead of cremating them.

After we dealt with the shock, we concluded that Grandma wouldn't have cared; she was sure her soul was going to heaven, and having struggled financially through the Great Depression, she would have approved of the modest settlement the court awarded my Dad.