
I have revolved my entire life around skiing. My parents bought a cabin at Mt. Baldy when I was 3months old and I was on skis at age 2. I spent every weekened and every holiday there from four months old until I left for university. Coming to Victoria where there was no skiing was the second hardest thing to leave (my dog was #1). I had friends at the hill that knew me better and meant more to me than my friends in Westbank, I had boyfriends from the hill, I didn't really associate with non-skiers. My love and obsession with the sport is something that sticks with me today and, as a result, me, everybody in my family and every single one of my friends agree I should be buried with my skis: Rossignol Scratch BCs. I also feel the rest of my gear should be thrown in so I can shred the pow in the afterlife. Below is a photo of my skis: 160cm, Rossignol Scratch BCs.

Something else that one of my friends suggested was a piece of my cabin. I think a chunk of this should be thrown in my grave as well since that was really the place I called home when I was growing up, and I still refer to it as home when I go back for Reading Breaks and the occasional weekend to ski. Below is a photo of my cabin: my real home. My parents painted the damn thing purple and yellow a few years ago and I've never liked it. Still, this place is what I really refer to as home and we've had it since I was three months old.
Other minor things that I feel I should be buried with are books. I love reading, if I'm not skiing I can be found in a book and one day I dream of having my own library (I've already got two large book cases full). I'm still in the process of trying to find grave goods that would show such qualities as strength and independence but when I do, I want those thrown in as well.
Note: all photos were from my documents and were either taken by me or found on a website so long ago I don't have a URL
