Farewell, Doug

You might be wondering where I’ve been.

Shortly after publishing my last post, I got a call from the New York State Troopers. Doug had collapsed in his front yard and was unresponsive.

He was taken by ambulance to the Ellenville Regional Hospital, where he passed a few hours later. The police couldn’t locate any of Doug’s relatives, but my contact information was scattered all over his house.

“Just in case I forgot your number when I go into the next room,” Doug would have said.

Bella and I were in New York City, sifting through her storage unit when I got the call. Luckily, there was a rolled-up futon behind me as I fell backward in shock. Once I regained composure, we hopped on an Amtrak to Poughkeepsie and headed back to my place.

Doug had written a last will and testament that could put the entire Brandon Sanderson catalog to shame. The last three hundred pages were one long letter to me, detailing every step for his memorial.

“Not a funeral,” Doug wrote. “Those are disgusting. A memorial service.”

The event was to be held on his property. All attendees were required to wear a flannel button-down shirt, blue jeans, cowboy boots, and a wide-brimmed rodeo hat. “Special bonus for those touting a lasso,” he added. He never did specify what the bonus was.

No prayers were to be said. Only happy songs. Crying was allowed, if done in private.

His body was to be placed on a wool mattress, naked, under a single linen sheet. Once the celebration wrapped, the food was eaten, and nothing left unsaid, everyone had to leave… except me. I was to douse the place in liquor, especially Doug’s body, and set the house on fire.

Took some convincing for the High Falls Fire Department. Eventually, the chief agreed, showing up in his truck dressed like a wild Texan, ready to extinguish the flame if necessary.

“Those metal urns,” Doug wrote, “total shit. Once the house collapses, you’re to collect my ashes and put them in a teak vase.” This exact teak vase I’ve linked is the one Doug wanted. “If the seller’s out of stock, contact them. See if they’ll make an exception.”

There were plenty in stock. I ordered one. It arrived in perfect time.

Had Doug made it just three more weeks, he would’ve turned 83. I can’t say I’ll miss those 2 a.m. phone calls, but man, he was a character. May he rest in peace.

Not to be a disgusting pig, but there’s an affiliate link in here. If the vase speaks to you, I might make a wee bit of money. So will the seller. But most importantly, Doug would want you to have it.

Please don’t put ashes in there. Use it for flowers. Doug would want beauty, not bones.