Tip your waitresses and try the veal

We buried a friend this weekend. Trouble is, they buried him at the graveyard that I hate the very most. It is seriously one of my least favorite places in this valley. Granted cemeteries are not pleasant places to being with, but they have charm and link us to history. Once the immediate sting wears off, they are really beautiful, sweet places. In fact,  every set of pictures that I have from my travels around the world have at least 50 pics devoted strictly to cemeteries.

The problem that I have with this cemetery is that in the past few years, I have buried about 4 or 5 students at this same location. There hasn't been time for the sting to wear off and the feelings of history, peace and charm to break through.

Pretty sure he was at the poppy fields with his wife and twins. 

However, I did gain a sense that this may have been the perfect place to bury Todd. Knowing that he was the constant joker....and adamant about having a good time, I parked the car and got out, only to see a head stone that read this,

"Happy to be here"

In my head, I am going to think that the deceased actually wanted it to say, "I'm happy to be here. I'll be here for eternity. Tip your waitresses.....and try the veal." But for the sake of space, his family settled with just, "Happy to be here"

When I die, I hope to have the people I left behind still realize that regardless of where my body resides, my spirit remains exactly the way it always has been. And my spirit is freaking hilarious....so I want something clever on my headstone, dammit.