I was thinking about death, which I often do, because I am
often convinced I have some terminal illness that all the doctors I have seen
in my life have missed. Every headache could be a brain tumor, every sinus pressure
a stroke and every weird ache some rapidly growing cancer. I don’t know why I
am like this. I guess it just seems that
life is so tenuous and we are all just one random accident away from meeting
our maker.
Both my mother and father died of cancer and had funerals at
a church. The casket was open at the front of the church and people milled
about and went up to the coffin to “say goodbye” and then chatted with the
family and told us how wonderful our mother was. In fact, one person at my Dad’s
funeral was like, “You father was a good man, but oh lord, how I miss you
mother.” Which was pretty funny and apt. I think Dad even felt that way – “Man I
am a good person, but oh how I miss Celeste.”
I also recently attended the funeral of my brother in law.
Pat was a good guy. He was quiet and lurked about not wanting to take up too
much space, but he was funny when you got him going. When Mike told him I was
pregnant with Max, Pat said, “Are you sure it’s yours? I mean, she travels a
lot.” Which I thought was hysterical. The thought of me running around in
sensible business clothes having affairs in small cities is funny.
At Pat’s funeral, people of course shared good times and how
much they loved Pat. Almost everyone said the same thing – I had not seen him
lately. In fact, I had not seen Pat in over 2 years. He moved across the lake,
things got busy, you know the scene. It made me sad to think he left his world
not knowing how much I and others cared about him and how much we valued him
exactly as he was, as we all are – an imperfect child of this Great Universe.
I started thinking that if I ever do find out I have some
terminal disease, if I have notice that I am going to die, I am going to plan
and attend my own funeral. I mean, why miss the party? How awesome would it be
to invite all your friends to your funeral? They would treat it like the real
thing – wear black, take bereavement leave, bring a casserole and then they would
stand around and talk about how wonderful I was. And I would wear a white robe
with wings and flit about the room from conversation to conversation saying
things like, “Bless you my child” and “I am watching over you.”
I would get to enjoy all the peace lilies and bouquets of
Stargazer Liles. I could personally write my own thank you cards for donations
in my name to the charity of my choice. I could see if Mike keeps good on his
promise to have a bagpipe player at my funeral.
And after the funeral, there would be light snacks and a
buffet at my house for family and close friends. There I could dole out my
belongings and read my will. Who could contest it then? I mean, if you don’t
understand it, you can just ask me! Wonder if I had any regrets? Just ask, I’ll
share the scroll-long list of them! I might even be able to check off a few
things on the list before I pass over to the other side.
And then, when I did finally die, I would go off knowing
that all those people cared enough to come to the funeral and send me off. And
they would know, that I knew, that they cared all along. Just as I suspected they did.
1 comment:
I forgot about this blog, but I am so glad I found it again. This was very thought provoking.
Jess
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