I don’t want to disgust people; I want to move them. Light it as it gets dark. Let the people who love me the most light it. Have someone in charge of logistics, to feed the fire with fuel, manage it’s controlled collapse. Stay all night. Sing, dance, cry, laugh. Party. Drink and eat and stay warm. Say what you want, but let the flames do most of the talking. Come the next day, when it has burnt for hours and hours, have someone with a big heart and experience of death collect my bones. Bury them if you want, or throw them into the sea, or turn them into art, I won’t mind, I won’t be there.