Last night I asked someone to deliver the eulogy at my funeral. Attending funerals, and delving full-fledged into the realm of the inevitability of one’s mortality evokes interesting conversation. I have never been concerned, or filled with fear, at the idea of dying, yet I am also not sure that I have ever thoroughly discussed ideas of how my funeral might unfold. I have always felt too guilty that attending a funeral can cause thoughts about oneself; as entertaining any thoughts other than for whom the funeral is held seems too self-interested to really want to feel. Yet I seem to be filled with wondering - what narrative would be told?
The suggestion was made that perhaps the requested eulogist would write, but not necessarily lend voice, to the delivery. This of course begged the question: whom would I want then, to read it? It was agreed that it would then need to be someone with an accent, and ideally someone who had been Knighted. Laughter abounded; the hypothetical accusation of presumptive arrogance divested with the requisite jocularity of Monty Python. I then suggested the idea of feeding all the guests mild narcotic-filled treats…but this was met with the reminder that some people may suffer seizures. Right. Bad idea. Leary biscuits will be offered - but optional.
Of course then the quantification question arose. Do we ever really know how many people whose lives we have touched in manner that might actually provoke them to want to partake in a celebration of our life upon our death? I do not believe there will be masses at my funeral…to have a thousand people at my funeral would be, somehow ironic. I just don't think that I connect with people that way. What I do know for sure – is that the commune of people whom I would hope to attend - would know unequivocally that I loved them… unconditionally – as much in absence as in presence – because I had told them so. Presently, I feel compelled to do more of that.
It feels comforting as you grow, to learn more about who you will never be – to embrace imperfections and eccentricities alike - to be increasingly okay with the authenticity of all that you are – and ultimately to be so intensely thankful for those who have shown you kindness, as you have tripped along the way.
