Motorboating Urns




Thinking about life without Brandon every day is sad. No Brandon quirks, no gawking at my boobs, no pinky promises, no goodnight kisses, no random gropes, and no beard to stroke.

That’s devastating.

Our love is one of a kind. It’s deep, passionate, everlasting, forgiving, kind, sweet, honest, gentle, and pure.

It’s amazing. 

If Brandon was buried in a cemetery his grave would be a campsite. Don’t put it past our love.

Life would stop for me.

Days would not be the same without talking to Brandon. He doesn’t have to answer, he doesn’t have to voice an opinion, he doesn’t have to agree with me. He lends his ears when needed and that’s enough.

Listening has always been enough.

Brandon can be around for pillow talk, someone to turn to when the sky turns gray, or when a heart smiles. He can be there through it all -forever- if he’d agree to be cremated. 

He wanted to be buried. 

Brandon is allowing cremation if he gets flashed daily. He needs to gawk after death. 

I will motorboat his urn.


3 thoughts on “Motorboating Urns

  1. This made me sad and giggle at the same time! We would be those crazy bitches who found a way to immortalize our beards so we can stroke them..

    • Brandon was not ok with being cremated until I agreed to flash him. Then as the conversation deepened I went all in, “I will motorboat your urn”

      It was a very strange conversation.


  2. I have told my children that I want to be cremated, and they should take turns with my ashes…like visits from Nana. And I fully expect them to have me in a seat around the table for holidays. But your plan is more fun.

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