While sitting drinking a beer at the grave of a woman who saved my life, her dad asked me where I’d like to be buried.
The graveyard we were in was very peaceful, with the only sounds coming from the soft wind rustling the leaves and the birds chirping as they perched on the branches, chatting amongst their friends.
Until that moment, it wasn’t something I had given too much thought. I had sometimes amused myself by thinking it would be good to cause traffic chaos by having a service at a local crematorium which is on the same road as two secondary schools, and booking it for the same time as they kick out for the day.
But that was as far as I got with any thoughts of funerals and the like until I was diagnosed with incurable bowel cancer.
With no sense of how long I have left, and the constant reminder of the statistic that only 11 percent of people with my condition last longer than five years, I’ve been preparing for death while trying to live life at the same time.
And preparing for death has brought me to thinking what I want to happen to my body after I have kicked the bucket.
I have never really been a church aficionado (if Heaven and Hell exist then I’ll probably end up at the latter) so being buried in a graveyard probably isn’t right for me. Cremation also doesn’t really appeal.
What I think I’m looking for after death is somewhere that my body can be of use – of use to the creatures feasting on my slowly rotting flesh and then becoming part of the soil to create nutrients for trees and the plants springing up where I lay for eternity.
It’s for this reason that, after Googling burial grounds while in hospital for cancer treatment, I journeyed to Bedfordshire to visit the St Albans Woodland Burial Ground.
The 15-acre site on the edge of a village called Keysoe has around a thousand souls resting there so far and there is space for quite a few more.
And as I toured the site with Sam Ware, from the St Albans Woodland Burial Trust, it was strange to think that one of the dead could be me in the future.
Not strange in the sense of my death being sooner than I thought it would be, as I prepared for death a long time ago.
But strange to think that at 44 years old I’m in a position where I’m touring burial sites while I have friends that are choosing nurseries and schools for their children.
And strange to think that as I walked around the very tranquil surroundings, where the birdsong and the rustling of the grass provided the soundtrack to the site, I could imagine my grave being dug and then my environmentally friendly casket being lowered into the ground.
As the pictures show, it’s a beautiful place away from the panic of life, with parts of it making me think of the wood I used to walk in with my family when I was a child.
Sam Ware, administrator for the St Albans Woodland Burial Trust, mentioned that she often shows people with terminal diagnoses the site and it gives them a sense of peace to see their final resting place. And I think I understand what they feel.
I don’t think I’ll cope very well when I’m told my incurable cancer has become terminal, whenever that may be.
But amongst the tears and the guilt of leaving people behind, there will be a sense of relief that at least I have some parts of the puzzle sorted.
A natural burial ground seems like the best option for me as it’s a way of becoming part of the environment, with a small wooden marker denoting where I am rather than a big marble gravestone pointing out my lack of existence for the rest of eternity.
It’s not ashes to ashes, dust to dust, because I have no particular love for anywhere so wouldn’t know where I’d want ashes to be scattered if I was cremated.
And hopefully it would take a bit of pressure off my family after I’ve gone, as it’s one less decision to have to make.
It’s not a position I thought I’d be in so soon in life and it’s not a discussion I ever thought I’d have to have with my family. But, now we are talking about it, I recommend everyone starts having these kinds of conversations.
Death is an unavoidable part of the life cycle and so sooner or later it will happen to you. So the best thing you can do is make it easier for loved ones by letting them know your wishes for the end and, if you’re anything like me, start planning a big party so everyone can say goodbye.