Please visit my grave barefoot and with yesterday’s leftover pizza. Cold is fine.

Don’t bring me roses. Jasmine will do.

Dig a hole and plant an avocado tree. Use my ashes as fertilizer. Or throw them in the ocean.

Let me soak up the Atlantic with my last dying embers.

Don’t tell them I was nice.

Tell them the truth. That I hated small talk and preferred books over people.

Don’t cry. But if you must, do it with a glass of red wine in your hand.