One of my favorite quotes is Don’t take life so seriously. No one gets out alive. I laugh, then go right back to taking life too seriously. I’m all caught up in the rush and tumble of meaningless nothings ….which will, one day, add up to a eulogy of my life.
Why the morbidity? I attended a funeral for the husband of a friend on Monday. Funerals for members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormons) are a little different than movie funerals. One, we don’t wear all black. Two, the service focuses on hope and eternity; on the joy we had in the person and on the promise of being with him or her again after death. Three, there are often A LOT of people attending since Mormons have a thing for large families*. And four, family and close friends eat funeral potatoes, ham, and Jell-O salad afterwards.
Item #4 might not be that unique. I mean, who doesn’t love cheesy potatoes?
I really enjoyed the funeral. The man whom we honored sounded wonderful: big into his family, a proponent for hard work, a lover of Doritos and Mtn Dew, sometimes a tease, a man always ready to open up his home for events; sincere, genuine, service-oriented, and kind.
A few thoughts crossed my mind during the service. The primary one was I want people to say those things at my funeral.
That’s a good thing, because I normally come away thinking I sure hope no one says this when I die! …If you know the deceased was a mean drunk who beat his wife, it’s disingenuous to go on about how he loved his fellow man. So, my kids had better not say, “Chelsea loved being a mother. Housework was her middle name. Birds sang and children frolicked. I still can’t believe we all learned to play six instruments and speak seven languages!”
I’m aware of a common writing exercise to type up one’s own eulogy. Being a paranoid person, I’m not heading that direction. I do wonder what, specifically, I’d want people to say -as a sort of goal to work towards. If not known for dishes and laundry, what about for writing that elusive book? If not for birds singing, what about dogs barking? Do I want my children to remember my RBF or my real love for them?
I want everyone who wants to, to come. It should feel like a party (with those yummy potatoes!) where no one feels excluded. Maybe I should arrange for a balloon artist.
What about you? Have you thought about your end-of-life party? What would you want said?
©2022 Chel Owens
*Granted, not everyone has a large family. Family is very important, and the focus of our faith.
Here’s what I wrote for the last two weeks:
Wednesday, April 13: Asked for input on “How in the Heck Do You Balance Your Blogging?“
Thursday, April 14: Wrote a terrible poem about bad drivers. They’re still out there!
Later, I shared my inability to open a box for Friday Photo.
Saturday, April 16: It’s Terrible Poetry time again! Frank says we’ll be writing a common-meter nursery rhyme. Parody is welcome! Write one! Contest ends tomorrow!
Sunday, April 17: Carl Jung talks to us about facing the dragon.
Monday, April 18: I’m a Mormon, So I wear special underpants called temple garments.
Thursday, April 21: Updated y’all about COVID conditions ’round Utah.
Friday, April 22: Friday Photo. I shared some smart-aleck’s addition to a driving meter.
Saturday, April 23: Wrote my own nursery? rhymes?
Sunday, April 24: Quoted Desmond Tutu.
Monday, April 25: I’m a Mormon, So I keep sex between me and my husband.
©2022 Chel Owens