FUNERALS, MEMORIALS AND THAT FINAL PARTY

As I sat in church waiting for the memorial service to start, I looked around at the many family and friends that had gathered to remember a dear lady. So many lives touched. So many memories shared. My first thought? “Would this many people come to my funeral? Did I even know this many people?” (Maybe if there was food involved. People love a good buffet.)

That was followed closely with: “I should make some more friends. Maybe do a little networking.” Sad, huh? I was actually thinking about how to be more popular for my own funeral.

I admit to comparing myself to the deceased at all the funerals I have attended. And I have attended many funerals in the past few years. Paul is a deacon at our church, which has a  large percentage of elderly members. During one particularly busy year for “passing”, we jokingly called Paul the Deacon of Death, so many  people from his group of families   “went home to the Lord”.

It is the one time where you are the center of attention and you can’t be there.  The planning and thought that would be put into arrangements. I have a reputation for putting together a great party, so I expect a good send-off. Christina and Paul would feel the pressure from me “beyond the grave” to get it right! But I won’t be there to revel in the success of another well done gathering.

One thing that has always bothered me, is what I call the Sainting of the Deceased. I knew some of the recently departed, and saintly might not have been a word I would use. Of course, this is not the time to bring out a list of grievances and examples of bad behaviour. But it sets a bad precedent. If I knew the person, then the phony sentiment is annoying. If I didn’t know them, I start comparing all their wonderful accomplishments (minus all the crappy stuff that gets edited out)  and feeling terrible about my selfish, ordinary life. I come away thinking, “I suck.I need to be a better person.”

People don’t think of me as kind and gentle and sweet. I am, at best, snarky and honest and straightforward. I recently told someone, “If I wasn’t snarky, I’d be living a lie.” He suggested I put that on a T-Shirt. Christina and Paul know how I feel about insincerity. Christina promised if anyone starting spewing sweet drivel about me, she would stand up and shout, “You don’t know my Mother!”

And then there are the overachievers. One of my regular reads is the New York Times Obituaries. I look at the length of the write-up. I look to see if there is more than one write-up. Big money philanthropists  get multiple obits, paid for by  each cause they generously supported. Who has been keeping this detailed timeline of achievements, ready to pull out at the moment of death?  I haven’t done much, and I can’t remember half of the events in my life.

For example: (These are fictional, but based on some of the obits I read, I don’t think I’m far from the mark)

  –“He wrote a book while working full-time and getting his PhD in quantum physics. All the while, he had time to coach his daughter’s softball team and serve meals at the soup kitchen”  

 —   “She got her medical degree while raising eight children and still found time run a support group for women at the homeless shelter.”

Who are these people? Aliens?

In some future posting, I may attempt to discuss my feelings about actually being dead. That will be trip into my emotional state, I might not be willing to take (or expose to you, good reader). This is strictly all about THE SHOW, the grande finale.

Just one more detail, Paul and Christina:

There better be cocktails and champagne and music that doesn’t come out of a 1800’s Hymnal.

That’s all.