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.
11 comments:
I have some alternative ideas for my funeral, too.
If not the all-out bash that you're "planning", then either a funeral by invitation only with a list of attendees I'd make out before hand.
Or my personal favorite...no funeral at all. I certainly don't want my surviving friends' and relatives' last memories of me to be some sad-ass funeral.
Sign me up. I always said I wanted to be stood up in the middle of the room, with everyone push-pinning little notes all over my body. Things that they need, want or desire. Then, cremate me with the notes still on my body so I can take them to heaven and get working on them there miracles.
I want a party. I want people drunk and happy and some beautiful woman blowing the hotband in the bathroom to make him cheer up.
S'long as she isn't cuter than I was.
CP.
Let me know, I want to be there!!!!
I do understand what you are saying. Funerals are something I cannot force myself to go to. I think mainly because they are so opposite of what you described. It sure would be nice to celebrate someone's life then to attend someone's death.
~xo
I totally agree with blogarita on the no funeral thing. Just torch my ass and be done with it. I don't want anyone looking at me when I'm dead. I don't really have a home so I don't want to be buried.
I like the idea of a party, don't want anyone crying over me - but remembering the good stuff...great idea.
I hate the formality of funerals...and why are they called funerals? There is nothing FUN about them.
Glad you had a great vacation.
I'm the same way, Dave.
No coffin. No flowers. All of my friends. A rememberance. Martinis and spread me out babyy... ;)
Funerals creep me out. I'm not going out that way?!
I know I want to be cremated and scattered someplace that's significant to me. Unfortunately, most of the "significant" locations in my life have tended to be city blocks with no vegetation. This could get messy.
You bet. Best "funeral" I ever went to was done in a bar. The body was long gone, but we weren't.
Best funeral I went to was my uncle's after he died unexpectedly after a short battle with luekemia.
We all went to the beach and sang along with the "Moody Blues" (his favorite) and watched a flock of Monarch butterflies travel through our circle.
My uncle's last name was King... Something to ponder.
Amen. Funerals are the worst. I think you need to leave your wishes with someone, even though it's just weird to be planning that sort of thing. Weird for me, because I still have fear issues with death.
I'm not sure I want my body viewed, but I want everyone to gather around a picture of myself (the best one there is ... I was like ... 20. hehe) and then cry their damn eyes out for hours while listening to tapes of my favorite jazz, blues and classic rock tunes.
No revelry please. I'm dead after all. Me ... gone forever. Fuck partying.
:)
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