My mother sits on my mantal as a box of ash.
I think I’d like to have all of her compressed into diamonds.
I would drop the diamonds in places I found interesting.
Someone would pick them up, love them, show them off, and pass them on for generations.
No one would ever leave a precious gem just sitting around.
This way my mother would go on forever, she’d be loved, even after all the people who knew her had pasted long ago.
Ben Howard – Diamonds