Location: ///limbs.moment.piper
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These waypoints, as I have described them, are an important expression for those who wish to share their love and their loss following what is most certainly an unexpected tradgedy.

This, number 4 in my presentation, is a slightly more substantial memorial, with a plinth and solar lighting and some mementos. There is astro turf, and pebbles, and a beer mug and a shout-out to the Rabbitohs football team.
A tiny, but symbolic fraction of Tony’s life is set here.

–ooOoo–

It makes one think.
Heaven forbid you were to die in a traffic accident….but the reality is that all end of life scenarios are on the table.
As is the time of their unfolding.

So how you would like to be remembered in memoriam?
A simple plaque? Nothing at all? Or a more revealing construction that celebrated the warp and weft of your life (and what would those be)?

–ooOoo–

Myself, I kinda like the old camping adage of leaving nothing but footprints and taking nothing but memories (before that it was: bash, bury, burn….not quite so poetic…or useful here).

There is something kinda mysterious, dare I say poetically authentic about living a rich and fulfilled life that within a handful of years of passing becomes utterly traceless.

In an age of everyone wanting to have their 1 million instances of fame (or at least a couple thousand likes, comments, and shares) it is pretty subversive to aim for a legacy that will be: to leave no legacy.

I came. I lived my life.
Then I snuck away without history even noticing.

–ooOoo–

New Years Day 2116.
Kali was out for an early morning forest walk. Her KOSMO neuro-link eye clasp uploading her entire slightly hung over but AI enhanced experience. Live streamed to her 2 Billion followers.

She was just about to show off her brand new (and sponsored) quantum latticed smog mittens, when she rolled over on her ankle…ending up all crumpled and sploshed in a patch of wet mud.

Picking up the cause of her unflattering fall, she exclaimed to her audience “who the fuck left this laying here?”

She waited for the responding likes, subscriptions and comments to upload directly to her neo-cortex, which made her feel slightly better if no less mucky.

Flipping off the AI enhancer, she stared for a moment trying to figure out what it actually was.

A small round somewhat degraded gob of black plastic.
It looked like a tiny hockey puck with a rusted silver handle.

Kali had no idea what hockey was, let alone the provenance of this ancient drivers-side window winder that had lay half buried in the grass, undiscovered since the accident that threw it there.

And let alone the let alone of the driver of the car, who once passed this way and once lived his life nearby and once wondered aloud about things left in memorium.