
I would ingest potassium cyanide that I’d procure online or from a jewelery store. When I was young, I imagined myself using carbon monoxide fumes, but I don’t have a garage anymore. Sometimes, when I’m driving at night, I think a car will serve as well as a gun at 160km/hour, but it’s probably way too messy and uncertain. I’ve always wanted something as painless, clean, and quick as possible.
I’d do it in my house, and lie down in my bed in my boxers with the covers pulled over me. Probably listen to a playlist of Leonard Cohen’s albums from earliest to latest. If successful, it’d take three to five days for the police to find me, and it’d either be John or my work to call them. Maybe I’d set up some kind of trigger to call 911 after a day, so no one would have to deal with a gross decomposing body.
I have no idea if I’d leave a note. I can’t think of what I’d say.
Some people would be sad, but John would be most affected. It’d take him between one to three years to get over it. Everyone else would take less than a year.
John, Darren, Aaron, Louise, Rob and Mel, Pat and Jen, Trolley, my dad, possibly Joel, and maybe my uncle Joe would be at the funeral. Rana, Andrew and Alex, Jesse and Audra, Dan, Heather and Sergei, maybe even Frederic and Misun and my Tai Chi teacher, would be there too if they found out before the ceremony happened. My mom would be barred from attending. Any other family there would just be to make an appearance for my dad.
John would give the eulogy. I think he’d cry while delivering it, which would make me sad because I’ve never seen him cry before. Pat and maybe Aaron would want to say something too.
I’d let John decide what to do with my remains; whatever is easiest/cheapest for him to deal with. If I was cremated, I’d let him keep the ashes, but I’d allow him to give them to my dad if he chose to.
John would get almost everything in my estate; house, assets, RRSPs, life insurance policies, with the following exceptions:
- Darren would get Dolly, because he’s the one who would appreciate her most
- clothes would go to the Salvation Army
- all my computer equipment would go to Pat (aside from the Mac Mini and external drives, which would go to John for his home theatre system)
- Aaron would get my car and my Wacom tablet
- Frederic and Misun would get all my photographic prints (with the one exception below)
- Ryan would get my Canon Digital Rebel XT and 18-55mm lens and consoles
- Heather would get the rest of my photo gear
- My dad would get the painting Julie made of me
- My primary copy of the Tao Te Ching translated by Jonathan Star would go to Sam, my copy translated by Stephen Mitchell would go to the Tai Chi studio to be lent to anyone who wants to borrow it
- My copies of the Tao of Pooh, Te of Piglet, and illustrated copy of the Tao Te Ching by Martin Palmer, and Hoot would go to Bronwen
- My Mont Blanc Meisterstück Classique Rollerball, plant, and first copy of “Tomato Voice” would go to Julie
- My table tennis equipment and I Ching would go to Dan
- Jesse would get my ukulele
- My copies of Mind Over Mood and Reinventing Your Life would go to Jason
- My broadsword would go to Rob cause I bet he would think it was cool
And if my therapist ever found out, he would have wished that I continued my sessions.