Friends and family gathered someplace beautiful-- outside, weather permitting-- singing and playing their memories of me-- the songs and tunes we've shared.

And sing this one:
"I will arise and go now and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made. Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honeybee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I will have some peace there, For peace comes dropping slow, Dropping on the veils of the morning, To where the cricket sings. There midnight's all aglimmer, and noon's apurple glow, and evening's full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day, I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore. While standing in the roadway or in the pavement grey, I hear it in the deep heart's core." (W.B. Yeats)

Because that is heaven to me.

Then spread my ashes somewhere on a piece of the green earth I love, under a tree, beside a river.