By Artemis Gouros

When I imagined my funeral as a child, it was always a stately affair with an enormous coffin borne aloft by numerous pallbearers across smooth emerald lawns dotted with impossibly bright flowers. There were mourners galore in unrelenting black, the women with tasteful hats and veils to conceal hysterical weeping. I believe there were even flags of some description fluttering attractively in the obligingly gentle breeze – naturally it would be a gloriously fine day. I don’t think I was an excessively morbid child and I reserved my funeral fantasy for when I suffered particularly grievous injustices at the hands of my elders, the nature of which I can’t recall, presumably because they weren’t grievous at all. The logic behind the fantasy was of the “you’d be sorry if I was gone” variety. The benefit of being a child is that you can indulge in funeral fantasies without registering the fact that the reality would necessitate you being deceased. My grandiose notions of an appropriate send off I put down to a diet of films from the Golden Years of Hollywood and not an excessive ego for one so young. With the benefit of hindsight I can now see how limited my vision was. Although my childhood was only twenty years ago (loosely speaking), alternatives to traditional burials were not common enough to be incorporated into juvenile imaginings.

Envisaging my funeral now, I am spoiled for choice. Gone are the days where decisions revolved around the wood types and lining colour of coffins. Modern fantasies can indulge a number of alternatives from being dramatically ‘buried at sea’ to having ones ashes cast from dizzying heights over the location of your choice. Even with a traditional burial there are numerous innovations. Many would argue that spending large amounts of time and energy planning ones own funeral is at best a melancholy pursuit and at worst downright self centred. I disagree. The inevitability of death seems to escape most of us. People quite literally do not think about death, well not their own at any rate. Conducting a poll amongst my acquaintances informally titled ‘So how do you want to go?’, had my test subjects shrinking away from the table whilst simultaneously clutching their drinks very tightly. Ignoring this I talked blithely of how I’d better plan the whole thing from now because if my clueless sister (I have inexplicably chosen my oldest sister to organise the event despite the fact that if we fulfil our age expectancy she will certainly go before me), had no guidelines she would undoubtedly choose completely unsuitable music and set a woefully inadequate dress code.

For I no longer want the funeral of my misguided youth and not just because age has taught me that only presidents and war heroes get the kind of affair I was fixated with. I want my guests to emulate my dress sense for they are, after all, celebrating my life. Consequently, the event will be populated by people sporting feathers and hats (preferably together), leopard print anything and the kind of coats that swirl about you becomingly in the aforementioned gentle breeze as you walk to the graveside. Afterward there will be red wine, white wine and champagne. Plenty of finger food will be served as it can be comfortably held in one hand with an alcoholic beverage in the other while the guests bop about (out and out dancing not being sufficiently sorrowful), to a mix of Frank Sinatra, Vivaldi and 70’s disco music. Perhaps sticking with a traditional burial albeit one followed by a jazzy wake isn’t very adventurous of me but my delusions of immortality won’t allow me to incinerate my remains. You know, just in case. Of what I’m not sure, the invention of time machines or possibly a scientific pact with God allowing the reanimation of corpses and the return of souls on a ‘higher’ purchase system.

Before settling on my preferred funeral I conducted a thorough investigation into the various options. I looked into the disposal of cremated remains first as I wanted to get the least likely out of the way. Despite myself I was impressed, you can have yourself scattered just about anywhere! I was most taken with the notion of being cast out into the big blue sky from a glider, a service offered by a Queensland company. Gary Sweetman, a pilot with 28 years flying experience is the pioneer behind ‘Aerial Burials’ and has designed a unique ash release mechanism to facilitate the process. Gary is enthusiastic about his service and the way it instils so much meaning and creates so many wonderful memories of an event that is usually sombre. Momentarily diverted I pursued the ashes idea and came across ‘Burials at Sea’, a Sydney based company that provides the service in Sydney and the central coast of NSW with unwitnessed scatterings Australia wide. I was charmed by the history behind this method. From the Vikings and their rituals to the centuries old Hindu custom of scattering ashes in the Ganges River, not to mention King Arthur’s legendary maritime funeral, it is an ancient custom that is still relevant today.

With at least one witness on board, a videotape of the event, a commemorative certificate and a large framed map showing the site, the event will be long remembered. Eventually I decided I was environmentally conscious enough and not quite paranoid enough (I draw the line at cryogenic freezing), to stick with burial. I was gratified to learn that being buried does not contribute to the greenhouse effect as the carbon is trapped underground. This made me feel virtuous; apparently cremated coffins can pollute the atmosphere with an assortment of poisons including hydrochloricacid and carbon dioxide. Pleased by my eco-friendly approach to my own demise I decided to see what other non-environmentally friendly options less virtuous people than myself were opting for. I was amazed and somewhat intrigued by a website I discovered called the ‘Great Barrier Reef Eternal Rest Program’. I read in growing fascination and horror that the scientists of the future wouldn’t be able to reanimate me. If the website was to be believed, then evil Councils are continually concocting nefarious schemes to disinter as many remains as possible to satisfy their voracious appetite for land to put roundabouts and shopping malls on. It then discussed how being laid to rest in the Great Barrier Reef meant no nasty chemicals were necessary to preserve you, instead it was a case of freeze and sink.

The moulded salt blocks that would be attached to my ankles as weights caused me to make concrete shoes/Mafia associations but I bravely read on. The information that the little reef creatures would be feasting on my frozen, sunken body was somewhat disconcerting. However the glow I received as I learnt I would be boosting the food chain and providing “an anchor for coral spores without which the reef cannot regenerate”, made up for it. Assured that sharks don’t eat big frozen objects, only little fishies would nibble me as I thawed and I could wear a “tasteful, fully bio-degradable uni-sex smock” that would last until the bones were fleshless, I was practically sold. Full of questions, I emailed the address on the website only to learn that the ‘Eternal Rest’ program didn’t exist. Having excited myself with an ‘ashes to ashes, dust to dust, flesh to fish feed’ scenario, I was momentarily crushed. Hugh O’Connor, the creator of the website had actually looked into the possibility of making the idea a reality but met with insurmountable obstacles of the monetary variety. He did, however, alert my attention to the fact that in Florida there is gentleman who has proposed the idea of cannon ball ashes mixed with concrete. Dropped near damaged reefs, they would promote the regeneration mentioned above.

Unaccountably disappointed I went in search of ways to spice up my garden variety method of disposal otherwise known as being buried. I turned my attention to the transportation aspect of the whole affair. Why a car? I asked myself. Why indeed? I answered. Hearses are not just big black cars anymore. Now you can have a (drum roll please)… ‘Harley-Davidson Motor Cycle Hearse’. I was impressed by this and immediately readjusted my funeral to incorporate arriving on a Harley. I couldn’t think of any other situation where I might arrive anywhere on one so I was understandably taken with the idea. Especially when the ‘Dream Legends’ brochure told me that being delivered in a Harley hearse would proclaim that I was “no ordinary mortal, but a unique spirit, young at heart, and forever young-on a heroic journey”. This was more like it. The service is available all over the Sydney Metropolitan area and NSW country and approved by all necessary bodies such as the RTA and Health Department. Searching for further ways to commemorate my departure I toyed with the idea of fireworks.

Of course this would need a night funeral for maximum effect putting paid to my desire for golden sunlight and gentle breezes. Still, you can’t have everything and the image of a dazzling array of exploding shapes and colours to see me into the great beyond appealed to me. I spoke to a company in Brisbane called Fireworx that had received enquiries into the possibility of funereal fireworks. The request can be made a reality for those who desire a festive air at what is, traditionally, asad event. In my opinion fireworks would be fitting way to celebrate the life of a loved one. In keeping with my wish for dappled sunlight and gentle breezes is the practice of releasing doves. Kirsty McMillan of ‘Ceremonial White Doves’ on the Gold Coast, told me that in her experience, it is always a moving sight that allows people to take away a vision of beauty to accompany their memories. The symbolism of the dove, love and peace, promotes emotional release and is a powerful way to say goodbye once and for all.

The most popular Funeral Service is one that I thought sounded particularly beautiful; a dove is present throughout the service in the chapel, carried out behind the family and released by a family member either outside the chapel or at the gravesite. The dove will typically circle the area before flying off for home. Music can accompany the release and apparently the aptly entitled Fly by Celine Dion is a favourite. In the course of my exploration I came to the conclusion that Australia does not have as many burial options as other countries, most notably the US and UK. However, asmore and more people assert their right to put a distinctive and personal stamp on their funeral, the industry will be obliged to keep up with the times and the breakdown of burial taboos. I urge anyone who has an interest in how their loved ones will see them off to research the subject as, far from being depressing, it is an enlightening and often amusing experience. After all, you can’t choose how you come into this world but you can certainly choose how you leave it – fireworks, doves, Harley Davidson’s and all!