My darling Dad had sailed the world as a Merchant Seaman, so when he died I packed his ashes into a box with rosebuds and family memorabielia, and sent him sailing once again on the sea currents around the world.
I often think of him, every day in fact, and hope his spirit is happy and free, enjoying the tropical storms and the icy arctic blasts.
I hope someone will be kind to me too, and set my spirit free on a sweet mountain meadow, with Heidi and Uncle Peter laughing nearby, or on a warm tropical island with R L Stevenson as my generous host.
As you can see, I have not come to terms with my own death yet, but hope to, soon.