Don’t bury the tanzanite

Crystals of tanzanite

Image via Wikipedia

I don’t know why that particular sentiment has come to mind. I’m not sick (that I know of). All in all, I feel really very well, thank you, but nevertheless the thought comes back, a little more insistent each time. So I keep thinking to myself that I must mention to someone… my sister, probably, but whomever is making those decisions when the time comes… not to bury me with my jewelry. Especially the Tanzanite. All this fuss about Tanzanite being a “legacy” stone… it being so rare… something you pass down…

Whatever. It’s not like it’s the most amazing specimen ever. Assuming it’s even real. A thought for another day…

In any case, I’m not going to be needing it when I’m gone. I don’t technically need it now… Not that I mind owning a pretty piece or two, but essentially I am the salesperson’s nightmare; all too aware that at the end of the day I’m being offered for the price is a polished rock.

I don’t know what brought it to mind. But it’s been a couple of times now. Probably I should mention it. So… here, I’m making it official. When the time comes, don’t bury me with the Tanzanite.

You know, if I die.

OK, OK… when I die…

Unless the trumpet sounds first.  🙂


About aka gringita
Flotsam generator. Amateur photographer. Avid traveler. Christ follower.

2 Responses to Don’t bury the tanzanite

  1. Anonymous says:

    Oh no – I’m having cruise shopping talk flashbacks……..I never really thought about being buried with any of my stuff, but having watched perhaps too many Discovery channel specials on graverobbing over the millenia – I agree its probably not a good idea.



  2. That’s how I feel about pearls. Or how I would feel about pearls if I were a woman. They’re kinda like the equivalent of kidney stones, no? Eww…


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