Wishing for the Happily Ever After

We asked readers what their plans were for a final farewell party. Here are a few of their responses.

Hoping for a Little 'Help!'

My wife and I have taken the not-so-outrageous step of purchasing plots for ourselves. Less certain, however, is my wish to have my gravestone read, "He was too young to die, so we buried him alive." Topping things off, I expect the Beatles song "Help!" to play on a continuous loop during my viewing.

-- Dean Schleicher, 51, Owings

Feeding the Flowers

Nice as it might be, I don't believe in life hereafter. When I die, I will be cremated. My ashes will be mixed with wildflower seeds and packaged in little envelopes. This way, each person can sprinkle them wherever they want. It's a comfort to imagine myself of some usefulness after my death.

-- Clare Wilson, 61, Silver Spring

A Great View

I want my body cremated and the ashes flown in a small plane over the National Zoo (pandas) and the tennis courts at 16th and Kennedy [streets NW]. It must be done on a nice day (weather-wise).

-- E.K. Sweeney, 40-something, Rockville

Together, Always

I was lucky enough to meet and fall in love with my soulmate at the age of 17. So I find it impossible to imagine being apart for all eternity since we are both non-believers. I came upon the solution thanks to my longtime obsession with reading the obituary section of The Post. Another obviously hopelessly romantic couple shared their plans to have each other's cremated remains combined, then scattered in a mutually beloved spot. By doing the same I can know, without a doubt, that my husband and I will be united forever. Somewhere.

-- Anne Clark, 44, Alexandria

Lofty Locales

I would like to be buried beneath a large magnolia surrounded by red and purple bougainvillea, facing the sunset in a quiet, distant land between the Tropics of Cancer and Capricorn. Or, within the walls of Wells Cathedral in Somerset, England. (I checked into the Recoleta Cemetery in Buenos Aires, which would have been perfect, except the tombs and mausoleums are only good for 100 years -- and then they reuse them.)

-- Archie M. Andrews III, Burke

One Last Laugh

I have given strict instructions: a wry smile on my face if the embalmers can manage it and a prominent card on my chest to be viewed as any mourners gaze down upon my remains, reading "Smile . . . I'm dead and you're not."