As the result of a divorce I have been pretty well estranged from my family. I speak with my two sons but of course they are adults, live elsewhere and have their own lives.
Tonight I did something I had been putting off. I addressed them a letter and enclosed a copy for their mother who has not spoken to me in nearly 18 years since she left me. I laid it out for them. Explained in detail the health which is not awfully bad now but will eventually get worse in the not too distant future. Explained the financial situation which happens to be good where I am concerned. My ex wife is the only one mentioned in my will.
We married when she was 18 and I was 22. For all but the last two of our thirty years of marriage she gave me everything. Sex was magnificent, being with her was wonderful. She ran the house, raised the kids during my several unaccompanied years overseas on military assignments. My legacy is my house here in California near the coast. It is a beautiful place. I wish she would live in it when I am gone but that is probably not realistic. It's her's to do as she pleases with. My guess is she will sell and divide the proceeds among the six children. That would be just as well.
I told my sons cremation is what I wish. No religious services, no military burial. Just dispatch me to the oven as quickly as you can.
I am no longer religious. I was raised a Catholic but I have seen enough in my life that discourages me from having any strong belief about "God" other than a supreme power whatever it may be or a "hereafter." Nevertheless I won't rule it out. May sound strange to you but I am a little curious about what actually happens, if anything, once I am officially dead. I am not consciously aware of it but I might subconsciously owe my general ambivalence about death to the fact that about 38 years ago 10 Marines were incinerated, blown to bits on the spot when the Viet Cong blew up a helicopter during a Medevac. I was their infantry platoon sergeant. All I received were superficial burns a head wound and six months in the hospital.
I put all that business out of my mind within months after it happened, didn't think about it for years until about five or six years ago. I now think about April 5, 1967 at Duc Pho frequently. I've never told anyone exactly what happened including my wife and children. I correspond now and then with a couple of Navy Corpmen that were there in my platoon. They know. We are way, way, way overdue. It's about time don't you think.
Anyway I'm relieved I wrote the letter tonight. My "family" will be aware of things now and it won't come as a great shock when it comes. Not that it should anyway because I am 68. In the event I forgot something I gave them the name, address and number of a fellow Marine that will pick up the slack. If necessary.