Last night at the dinner table, I asked my mom what she wanted for her birthday, which is coming up relatively soon. So she pauses and goes “Oh right, I’m turning X years old this year…” Then my mom decides to be slightly morbid and get us to guesstimate how many more years she has to live (only my family, I swear). My sister says “Probably at least another 60 years.” (Which would more than double her current age.) My mom thought my sister meant that she’d live until she was 60 years old.
Which lead into a conversation of what’s going to happen to us when we die. I’ve decided that I’m going to stipulate conditions to the people in my family who survive me in my death. Something about being cremated and having parts of my ashes being turned into a diamond (which you can get done, for a price of course) and then having it set into a ring and then stipulating that the next male descendant who’s proposing marriage has to use that ring and they’ll have to say something like “[Name here], will you marry me and wearing my [insert relation to me here]’s ashes on your finger forever?” Or something like that. People are just going to hate me when I die. Which kinda makes me smile, in a way.
So my dad comes into the room, after leaving to check on his computer (of course), and at this point, I’m explaining to my sister that I’ll end up with descendants by having myself cloned and then having my clone have a child, and that the father’s going to be a donor who knows a million languages and is good in everything. And my dad only really hears the bit about the languages and wants to know who knows all the languages in the world. And so, of course, I tell him “the person at the bank”, bank meaning ‘sperm bank’. Which makes my sister and my mom crack up laughing and him getting really confused and just shaking his head at ‘you females’.
At this point, I realize that my mom still hadn’t told me what she wanted for her birthday, so I ask again. And she laughs because I reminded her of what the original question was and how it went to being really morbid about how when she was going to die and what’s going to happen when I die. And so she starts laughing more and tells me to ask her again when she can think of it without laughing too much.