Don't sanitise me when I'm dead. Don't dress me in a suit, fill your heads with notions of perfection I couldn't fulfil in life, and never can in death. Don't erase the parts of me that hurt you - don't delete my dubious history. Rip out the rings from my pin-cushion face coat my tattoos in makeup to hide from the world things which made me look unique but don't hide from the world my true warts my faults and foibles, don't pretend I was a saint.
Don't dress me up as special when I'm gone. Don't stand at an altar spreading lies about what a good person I was in life, when you know that's not the truth. Don't forget the parts of me that made me human made me imperfect, that you hated, that made you want to kill me until I was already dead. Remember the parts of me that made you cringe or shake with anger. Remember my personhood, remember my humanity and never forget the sinner that I was.