As part of my coursework for Practitioner Studies, I had to design my own funeral or memorial service and write a eulogy. Luckily, I had given this some thought so the assignment was a slam dunk. I knew you'd just love to know about it, so here you go.
I plan to be cremated, so there will be a memorial service, not a funeral. I also p
lan that it should be a whopping good party with lots of music, laughter, and sobbing. It will be held in a big public space, probably at Center for Spiritual Living in Seattle, because I plan to be really popular by then and we'll need space for all the mourners.The Agenda
- Everyone arrives and is seated; a flute and harp duo are playing softly in the background; the mood should be subdued. Everybody'd better behave, damn it.
- There will be a large chip-and-dip bowl prominently displayed in front of a picture of me. More on that later. (Media will be confined to the rear of the room and the periphery so as to not break the mood.)
- My daughters Terry, Johanna, and Katie will be in charge, welcome everyone, and introduce the minister of my choice to officiate.
- The minister says a few words.
- The first event will be a DVD of me reading my own euology. See the script below.
- Individuals are invited to come forward and say a few words. (This is the sobbing part.)This should take a long time because, as I said, I plan to be really popular by the time I die.
- This portion of the event being over, everyone moves to the Fellowship Hall where a lavish spread has been catered by Canlis (what else do you do with life insurance money?) and a rockin' good band is playing "Another One Bites the Dust" as people enter. This is the eating and dancing and laughing part.
- My daughters bring the big chip-and-dip bowl to the party and put it in another prominent place with my picture for everyone's viewing pleasure.
- The big party now proceeds into the early morning hours. Use some of the life-insurance money to hire people to clean up.
About that big chip-and-dip bowl, or maybe a cake server on a pedestal: Charlie Krafft has already been contacted (it was easy; he's a friend of my brother-in-law, the famous and wildly entertaining Jim Woodring) to make my cremains into a lovely bone china ceramic piece. My daughters have been instructed to bring me to all future family events in this form so I can keep attending them. My family is a bunch of very amusing whackos and I don't want to miss a single get-together. The Video Script
Hello, Beloveds. I have a few final words to say and I thank you in advance for listening.
The first funeral I ever went to was for my brother David’s father-in-law, Leo. He was anti-religion and the hired minister who spoke about him never knew him. I didn’t like Leo much; he was an old lech who always made me very uncomfortable, but I remember thinking how sad and false the service was and vowed that I wouldn’t have that.
I thought carefully that day about what I would want said about me. It was simple: I wanted someone who knew me to say, “she wasn’t anywhere near as good as she thought she was and not anywhere near as bad.”
That eulogy I wrote in my head years ago is no longer adequate, mainly because I got over feeling superior—life knocks that out of you if you live long enough, as I have. I’ve also gotten over that very special feeling that I am superiorly bad, too.
The truth is, I’m not as important as I thought I was when I was a young woman at Leo’s funeral and, paradoxically, I am way more important than I knew then. My life has mattered, not because of any external accolades, but because I have had the joy and gift of knowing Good—Good in the universe and Good in every person I've met.
If all has gone as planned (and it had better or I’m coming back to haunt you) there is a lovely bone china something made from my cremains by Charlie Krafft, the world-famous ceramic artist. I planned this years ago, as soon as I found out Charlie provided this service. If and when the piece breaks, Terry has been asked to smash up the pieces and divvy them up among you girls so you can put them in urns on your mantels. Until then, please take me to all family parties in this new form.
You are all so creative and weird and hilarious and unique. I don’t want to miss a single event when you all get together.
That’s all I have to say. I’ve loved life. I’ve known I was loved, and I’ve learned a lot. When you remember me, remember that I loved you with all my heart and tried to show you as often as possible what treasures you are.
Now go party down and celebrate that you are alive because it will be over almost before you know it.
