Yesterday, I had to attend a funeral for my wife’s maternal grandmother. Now before there is a massive outpouring of sympathy, please consider that she was nine days away from being 94. 94. She witnessed the Great Depression, World War I, World War II, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, the first Iraq War, the second Iraq War, and the ongoing War on Terror. She lived through 18 different presidents. She had children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and even great-great-grandchildren. That is really saying something.
So, sitting there in church, I could not help but think of my own mother who passed away in 2005. (Point of fact, that was the last time I had sat in a church as well.) The preacher that led the sermon spoke of Blanche’s departure from this world as a “home-going” and I really dug that. The music was very solemn and dignified and the type of service one would expect of a person of such advanced years. It was very quaint… and the exact opposite of what I want when I shuffle off this mortal coil.
I think it is completely natural to dwell on your own mortality after attending a funeral. (It is also custom for people to shag like rabbits after being reminded how life is finite. If you get down like that, it’s cool. Just have your lady call you “Ryan” once.)
So let me put it out there.
Now, we are going off the deep end here and I don’t need any phone calls or me put on any kind of monitoring that ends in the term “watch.” Stick with me as I take you on my logic roller coaster ride. All will be made clear…
I do not fear death. Of course, not fearing death and being ready to die are two very different things. I am by no means ready to check out. I still have too much that I want to do with my life, too many stories left untold and too many events unwitnessed. (There has to be an Angelina Jolie/Brad Pitt sex tape. There has to. He is too dreamy… Wait. I mean she…) Let’s move on.
There is a great mystery, a grand expanse that is beyond this mortal world. I look forward to walking with Him as we discuss the purpose of life and why things have evolved (or in some cases devolved) the way they have. I want to know why. And given His sense of humor, He might just shrug His shoulders and say, “Why not?”
I look forward to seeing my mother again. I look forward to meeting Granny Blanche as an immortal and eternally youthful soul. Can I meet Abraham Lincoln? Can I meet ancestors I never knew? And will the place prepared for me meet the expectations of my dreams? Will my collection of fully functioning lightsabers help me defeat the robot-mechanical dragon that keeps the Double-D swimsuit models trapped within the chocolate cave hidden behind the caramel waterfall?
I wonder…
I see death as the next stage in a great adventure. Which is why I do not want to have a funeral. I want to have a memorial service. I want my death to be a celebration of my life. I don’t want people decked out in black and wearing solemn attire. I want Hawaiian shirts. In truth (but probably not financially feasible), I want all my Pall Bearers dressed as either Shock Troopers or the 501st Clone Troopers. But it has to be one or the other. No mixing and matching. One group protected the Emperor and the other was Vader’s Fist. To combine them is ludicrous. And I want my casket to be wheeled out to the Imperial March theme…
I want boisterous music that represents me. I want those church speakers rockin’, son. I want lots of funny photos and laughter. Helium balloons and bunting may be too much but this is a celebration.
Can you play The Blind Boys of Alabama’s I Will Not Walk Alone? Certainly but juxtapose it with Sly & The Family Stone’s Dance to the Music or The Who’s The Seeker… “I won’t get to get what I’m after ‘til the day I die.” Hey, that’s got some meaning to it. I mean Amazing Grace is fine for most funerals but break out The Curse by Audioslave for mine.
I cannot believe that it is just darkness after we close our eyes. I cannot definitively say what lies for us afterwards. But I believe that everyone on this planet and everyone in history is a thread in an elaborate tapestry. And when I have served my purpose in this life and it is time for me to pass on… I am pretty cool with that.
The life that waits for us beyond this one is a great mystery and it is one that I look forward to solving. I can’t wait to pull the latex mask off the villain and have him say, “I’d a gotten away with it to if it wasn’t for you meddlin’ kids.”
But as I look down on my memorial service and I walk amongst you in spirit form, I want smiles. Surely goodness and mercy has followed me all the days of life and it is for that reason that I want joy and fond farewells. I want warm memories, mixed with gut busting laughter, and the occasional anguishing wails from people asking themselves, “Why didn’t I sleep with him?” Guys or girls. Either way. I don’t care.
But most importantly, the thing that I want people to say the most at my memorial service is, “Man, he sure owed me a lot of money…”Life is out there. Go live it…
So, sitting there in church, I could not help but think of my own mother who passed away in 2005. (Point of fact, that was the last time I had sat in a church as well.) The preacher that led the sermon spoke of Blanche’s departure from this world as a “home-going” and I really dug that. The music was very solemn and dignified and the type of service one would expect of a person of such advanced years. It was very quaint… and the exact opposite of what I want when I shuffle off this mortal coil.
I think it is completely natural to dwell on your own mortality after attending a funeral. (It is also custom for people to shag like rabbits after being reminded how life is finite. If you get down like that, it’s cool. Just have your lady call you “Ryan” once.)
So let me put it out there.
Now, we are going off the deep end here and I don’t need any phone calls or me put on any kind of monitoring that ends in the term “watch.” Stick with me as I take you on my logic roller coaster ride. All will be made clear…
I do not fear death. Of course, not fearing death and being ready to die are two very different things. I am by no means ready to check out. I still have too much that I want to do with my life, too many stories left untold and too many events unwitnessed. (There has to be an Angelina Jolie/Brad Pitt sex tape. There has to. He is too dreamy… Wait. I mean she…) Let’s move on.
There is a great mystery, a grand expanse that is beyond this mortal world. I look forward to walking with Him as we discuss the purpose of life and why things have evolved (or in some cases devolved) the way they have. I want to know why. And given His sense of humor, He might just shrug His shoulders and say, “Why not?”
I look forward to seeing my mother again. I look forward to meeting Granny Blanche as an immortal and eternally youthful soul. Can I meet Abraham Lincoln? Can I meet ancestors I never knew? And will the place prepared for me meet the expectations of my dreams? Will my collection of fully functioning lightsabers help me defeat the robot-mechanical dragon that keeps the Double-D swimsuit models trapped within the chocolate cave hidden behind the caramel waterfall?
I wonder…
I see death as the next stage in a great adventure. Which is why I do not want to have a funeral. I want to have a memorial service. I want my death to be a celebration of my life. I don’t want people decked out in black and wearing solemn attire. I want Hawaiian shirts. In truth (but probably not financially feasible), I want all my Pall Bearers dressed as either Shock Troopers or the 501st Clone Troopers. But it has to be one or the other. No mixing and matching. One group protected the Emperor and the other was Vader’s Fist. To combine them is ludicrous. And I want my casket to be wheeled out to the Imperial March theme…
I want boisterous music that represents me. I want those church speakers rockin’, son. I want lots of funny photos and laughter. Helium balloons and bunting may be too much but this is a celebration.
Can you play The Blind Boys of Alabama’s I Will Not Walk Alone? Certainly but juxtapose it with Sly & The Family Stone’s Dance to the Music or The Who’s The Seeker… “I won’t get to get what I’m after ‘til the day I die.” Hey, that’s got some meaning to it. I mean Amazing Grace is fine for most funerals but break out The Curse by Audioslave for mine.
I cannot believe that it is just darkness after we close our eyes. I cannot definitively say what lies for us afterwards. But I believe that everyone on this planet and everyone in history is a thread in an elaborate tapestry. And when I have served my purpose in this life and it is time for me to pass on… I am pretty cool with that.
The life that waits for us beyond this one is a great mystery and it is one that I look forward to solving. I can’t wait to pull the latex mask off the villain and have him say, “I’d a gotten away with it to if it wasn’t for you meddlin’ kids.”
But as I look down on my memorial service and I walk amongst you in spirit form, I want smiles. Surely goodness and mercy has followed me all the days of life and it is for that reason that I want joy and fond farewells. I want warm memories, mixed with gut busting laughter, and the occasional anguishing wails from people asking themselves, “Why didn’t I sleep with him?” Guys or girls. Either way. I don’t care.
But most importantly, the thing that I want people to say the most at my memorial service is, “Man, he sure owed me a lot of money…”Life is out there. Go live it…
2 comments:
It is useful to try everything in practise anyway and I like that here it's always possible to find something new. :)
I would appreciate more visual materials, to make your blog more attractive, but your writing style really compensates it. But there is always place for improvement
Post a Comment