A couple of years ago, upon the death of a dear friend, I wrote down my feelings on the subject. I won't commit much space to it, since I am not expecting a piano to fall on me or anything. But I figured it would be a good idea to post it up front in my blog, so anyone who might someday be charged with the task of burying me will know what to do. Courtney, Ron, Gary, Mike... are you listening?
Ever heard of those celebratory funerals... the kind some black folks (and the most fun-loving of white folks) have? The ones attended by friends, neighbors, family, and anyone looking for a good plate of casserole afterward... and where folks lean back and practically shout the songs? It's like a party - an utter, all-out celebration of the person's life - and the biggest of tears are usually balanced by a good belly laugh from way down deep. Anyone who feels like it can stand up and say how they feel... and stories of the deceased are retold one more time...
And you can almost feel the person's soul in the room.
THAT is the kind of funeral I want. Let the attendees decide what's next... an open schedule and open hearts. Play some loud classic rock, throw in a country song, some jazz and blues and maybe a little reggae... and dance.
At the end of the night, I want people to go away with a warm feeling - and I want them to know how much I cared for them. The first one to leave is a rotten egg.
No plan... just a party.
Kind of like my life.