Editor’s Note

Death can be a morbid subject. Or not! Quite coincidentally, considering our feature story on green burials, I attended a memorial for a family member this week. Despite the sadness acknowledging the end of a life, it was filled with joy and celebration. Driving home afterwards, talk turned to what we’d like to happen to our bodies when we die. I’ve always maintained I’d like mine to be thrown into the ocean, fish food, but currents have a way of bringing things back to shore. Perhaps a simple pine box or a shroud directly into the earth is best.

Here’s what two of our editors had to say:

Jennifer Platt, books editor: I’ve been preoccupied with death for a few reasons. I lost my mother during Covid. We were only able to do the interment of her ashes recently when my siblings could gather for the service. My mom’s wishes were to be cremated and her ashes used in the garden of remembrance at the family’s church. Also, I recently got married and we had to draw up wills and figure out what each other’s wishes are. I want my organs donated. Then I want a cremation, my ashes kept in a jar on the kitchen table — just kidding (though I know someone who’s done that). I simply don’t care where my ashes are scattered, just that whomever is scattering them is happy with what, where and when. Leana Schoeman, home editor: The song Smother by Daughter sums it up for me:

I should go now quietly / For my bones have found a place to lie down and sleep / Where all my layers can become reeds / All my limbs can become trees / All my children can become me / What a mess I leave

I must say, though, it does make me feel uncomfortable now that I have to sit here and imagine it all. Guess I’m human after all ...

For comments, criticism or praise, please write to nagela@sundaytimes.co.za