Memorial Service
Memorial
In memory of…
Celebrating the life of…
Honoring the life of…
Funeral…
Fun…
As I was sitting there at this weekend’s memorial, I tried to remember the last one I attended. Memorial services are always emotionally messy and physically draining. An odd mix of strangers with only sadness in common and distant friends who have not talked in years. Not a great time to catch up. And, where weddings are historically ripe for random liaisons, funerals are generally a much too cold shower.
After initially thinking my last service was my grandmother’s I was soberly reminded that it was Frank’s. Ahh, yes. “Frank Reed sir.” That was a quality dude. Ethics, morals, values, love, funny as hell, stubborn. So tragically sudden. A great life cut short. Grandkids that he never met. Information he never got to impart. And the circumstances of his death result in more anger than sadness. Anyway…
As shocking as Frank died, he lived a fairly long life and both kids were adults, Laura’s sudden death leaves behind a five year-old and a seven year-old – both girls. No pun intended, but that kills. And, Laura absolutely lived for those girls, you can just tell. How can you even project forward for them? I can’t.
I guess the appropriate thing to say and feel is “I guess you begin to think about how you live your own life”. Too many people took that comment to mean that one should think about how you live your life (‘cuz that’s what I said and all), as if you’re doing things wrong or against your core values. Naw. I’m pretty happy with how I live my life most days. I meant, one should think about what kind of photographs you leave. What kind of places you traveled to (for said photographs). What kind of adventures lead to what kind of stories told (and who tells them). I meant what sort of instructions you leave about how to conduct your funeral/memorial service. You know, the important stuff.
People leave pretty detailed instructions about how to divvy up your stash and in some cases what to do with the remains, but it’s never too early to think about the production. The show, yo! This is perhaps the once in a lifetime opportunity to really get things your way. And, since you won’t be there, there are no consequences. No apologies. No embarrassment. You can go out with a bang. Bagpipers playing Parliament (think, “Give Up The Funk” on bagpipes, it’s really funny) and strippers (fully clothed yet intellectually nekkit)!
I’m sure if I thought it out and applied myself, I could create a multi-million dollar business, something like “Last Wishes, LLC.” Not only do we choreograph your farewell, but we can also arrange for you to pre-fund it and get it all legally binding and stuff.
Music? None of that sappy, sad music for my eternal rest. Play me something that’ll get the joint hoppin’. A life in music would include, a little Led Zeppelin, some Fiery Furnaces, and some NWA. What’s wrong with NWA at a funeral? I’m sure it wouldn’t be a first. Play “Fuck tha Police” at my funeral! That would rock! Play it loud!
OR, even better, pre-record a messages. Me: “Ooooooh, it’s me. Spooky, huh? Uh, I guess if you’re listening to this, I’m all dead and stuff. Ha-ha! I’m sure I owe someone a few bucks or haven’t resolved some situation with others. Ha! I don’t care now! Suckers. I’m dead, beeyoches!” This can be one last opportunity to really crack wise.
And doctor a bunch of photos beforehand. Fix hair, edit jerks, and crop, crop, corp.
The possibilities are pretty vast. I’m excited to have my memorial held in a burrito restaurant. Oh, don’t close the place either; let ‘em run their business. Funeral nite at the Burrito Shak!
Still funny, “Tear the roof off the sucka” on bagpipes.
