Most people laugh when I tell them what I want. I want to be a tree. I want my remains planted with a sapling and let it feed off me. Some day I could be a maple, full of bird and squirrel nests and brightly colored leaves in the fall. My sap could be made into syrup. I look at it this way. Funerals and celebrations for life are for the ones left behind. I won't be there. They can do it any way they wish, but I do like the idea of being a tree.