I happened to visit a cemetery today. Together with a young and ever so good friend of mine I was visiting an old friend that died last year. I don't do that very often as cemeteries are not my idea of cosy places.
For instance, I could not imagine my old friend lying down there deep in the ground. Not him, and definitely not me. I'd prefer cremation, I said to both, the dead and the living friend. The living friend nodded vigorously, and began to describe what could happen to her body if it was down there, even though I pointed out that I didn't wish to picture it too much in detail. Alright, she said, but since she had given it a lot of thought already, she was prepared to buy an urn soon.
"You want to buy your own urn?"
"Of course. I'm not having anyone buy a jumper for me, let alone my urn."
"But now? You're 27!"
"28. And you never know when it could be too late."
I had a lot to think about on the way back. I then told my folks at home. But I'm not gonna tell my young friend what the folks said: "Well, whatever. She's probably gonna be struck by lightening on an ocean freighter, and then the beautiful urn will be standing on her shelf for nothing."