Pretend I am somehow able to know what you choose to do with my body and surprise me.
In some respects, I have a hard time understanding some peoples' obsessions with happens to their body post-mortem. If you do not believe in an afterlife, then there is no point in stressing over something that is, and will always be beyond your control anyway. If you do believe in an afterlife, then what does it matter? The moment you pass on, your former body becomes an empty husk, like the carapace of a beetle that has been shed so that a new one can take its place. Why would you, or anyone else care what happens to it once you are done with it?
I understand that the handling of the dead is really meant as a form of closure for the living. So ... let them deal with it if they need closure. Stuff me in a sack and throw me in the river when I am dead. Dip me in wax. Cut me up for science. I cannot possibly care.
A few weeks back I refreshed the list of subs I follow on Reddit, adding a few and dropping a few. One of the ones I started following is /r/Showerthoughts. For the most part, it is a gathering place for ideas that are just stupid enough to be clever. Often the posts will sound profound on the surface, and then dissolve into absurdity when you start to think about them too hard. It is a sub for things that you try not to think about too hard.
Sometimes I find myself pondering things that would fit nicely in that sub. For example, I have pondered on ideas that would make eternal life even remotely bearable. I think one would need to have the ability to forget, so that there would always be new things to discover. As I thought about it more, I realized that my own life may as well be eternal. From my perspective, I have always existed, and always will. I have never known, and will never know a time when I did not exist.
In a sense, I have my own, private immortality.