She would have wanted it that way.

I just read a book where a girl's father dies, but all characters bravely soldier on without him. They cannot pause to shed a tear as they are in a life-or-death battle, and all efforts must focus on survival. Fair enough.

But then, later, anytime the man's wife or daughter pause to consider weeping, or wondering if their brave soldier faces are somehow disrespectful to his memory--I mean, shouldn't they be grieving?--someone swoops in, and assures them that it's OK! "It's what he would have wanted! He would have wanted you to carry on!"

Just for the record, it's not what I would have wanted.

If I die tomorrow, I do not want you to carry on.

I mean, I don't want anyone throwing themselves off a cliff or anything, but is a little grief too much to expect? Could you just wear black for a few days and have a few drinks in my memory? I think it's just a sign of our culture's inability to deal with death that we're so quick to sweep it under the carpet with, "Tut tut! The sooner you get back to normal the sooner you forget! Time to make the donuts! The show must go on!"

I also like this notion that I can dictate behavior from the grave. Like anyone cares about what I want in the here and now? Is anyone currently planning an all-expenses-paid, year-long trip around the world for me, which, I tell you, is what I would have wanted? I think not. Yet when I die, oh, then suddenly "what she would have wanted" matters? And what I would have wanted just happens to coincide with what you feel like doing anyway? How convenient!

I am going to Alaska soon and my usual vacation paranoia is kicking in. (I'm always convinced I'm going to die on vacation, even though I'm more likely to die tripping over the shoes on my bedroom floor and hitting my head on the door.) I'm afraid of people putting words in my mouth after it's too late for me to argue and complain, so feel I need to get this down now, while I'm still alive.

If you have a vacation planned, and I die and my family inconveniently schedules my funeral right smack in the middle of your vacation, guess what? You're not to carry on! Because it's not what I would have wanted. What I want is your inconsolable ass standing next to my cremated corpse, sobbing your eyes out, or at least looking terribly disgruntled, which should be easy since you just cancelled your vacation.

Whatever you are doing, just stop. I'm dead. I have no time left. You, on the other hand, have plenty of time, and it would be nice if you spent it not carrying on but shaking your fist at the sky, screaming, "Why, God, why? She was truly an angel too good for this world! I cannot carry on!" And then, feel free to carry on.

I know it would be generous and kind to relieve my friends and family of their duty to stop their lives and grieve for five minutes. Well, guess what? I may be dead, but that doesn't make me a martyr!