I am finishing up this great book I picked up over the Christmas holidays: "Stiff: the Curious Lives of Human Cadavers" by Mary Roach.
While I admit to a penchant for the macabre and eccentric, this was a strangely charming, and oft-hilarious, read. Ms. Roach goes through the history of death and dying and what purposes dead bodies serve after going on to their great repose. Besides the usual anatomy labs and organ donations, corpses also serve as crash-test dummies, gruesome scientific experiments, fuel and--in some cultures still--medicine (salves, edible bits of skin, etc.) The book also details the processes behind death and the ways in which humans try to prolong their bodies' existence with chemicals or mummification.
Most interesting for me are the eco-friendly ways to die that are being offered in many parts of Europe and gaining in popularity worldwide. There's composting, or dissolving bodies in lye, after which the remant goo will swirl down the drain--a sterile, pH-neutral people-syrup.
I've never been one to romanticize my death or what will become of me afterwards. I don't believe I'd feel particularly violated or disrespected to serve a useful purpose as an organ donor or research tool. Besides, even if I became a bit of mellified man, it's not like I'd get too upset: I wouldn't be there to feel pain or indignity, now would I?
Death can be scary: the unknown always is. But without a cultural or religious background to dictate what I'll do with my own, I'd be quite happy to shuffle off this mortal coil allowing others to make the most use out of me before chopping me up and using my bits to grow flowers. I don't need a sealed casket, headstone or urn sitting on someone's fireplace. I find that kind of creepy. My time here is brief, and so I must make the most of it before I return to what I once was: just some random motes assembled into a person.
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