Me and Sam McGee

Didja see what I did there? I made a play on the title of the folk song Me & Bobby McGee, made popular by Janis Joplin (still the only one of her songs I can listen to) and written by Kris Kristofferson (of all people) - by combining it with one of my favorite poems, The Cremation of Sam McGee by Robert W. Service.

Several Christmases ago, my parents took my brother, my sister, me and our respective spouses aside to talk about their will and their wishes concerning burial and other uplifting things appropriate to a joyous holiday celebration.
I remember the disdain in their voices when they spoke of my aunt, whose urn would be in the same burial plot since she insisted on being cremated.
Then I mentioned that's what I wanted done to my body.
Oh! The Horror!!
It's pretty much a blur, but there was talk of the Children of Israel bringing Joseph's bones out of Egypt with them and how fire is used as a method of judgment in the Bible, et.al.

I wish I'd had on the tip of my tongue then what I've thought of since:

God spoke to Moses from a burning bush.

God provided light at night to the wandering Israelites with a pillar of fire.

Elijah called down fire from heaven to defeat the priests of Baal.

Elijah did not die, but was caught up in a chariot of fire.

The fiery furnace didn't seem to upset Meshach, Shadrach and Abednego - in fact they were joined by a fourth that looked like the Son of God.

Paul told the Corinthians that "though I give my body to be burned, and have not love, it profits me nothing", as if cremation was the most laudable thing in the world.

There are other references about gold being purified by fire, and of angels and of God himself, using fire and flames as descriptives.

Anyway, I anticipate a new body, so why should I care whether this one gets eaten, digested, and excreted by worms or reduced to ashes?