Seriously, hear me out on this one. I went to a funeral recently. It was lovely, truly. There were tears, beautiful flowers, and grandchildren telling stories that made everyone laugh and cry in equal measure. But as I sat there, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit jealous.
Not of the being dead part, mind you – I am not in a rush for that. But I was jealous of the honesty and raw emotion.
We spend our whole lives being polite, nodding at brunch, and sending “thinking of you” texts. But at a funeral? That’s when the real stuff comes out. That’s when people finally admit that your weird obsession with rocks was actually charming, or that the way you made your home made chocolate chip cookies changed their childhood. (At least I am hoping I am remembered by this.)
And it hit me: Why on earth should I have to be dead to hear the best stories about myself?!
With this second round of cancer making itself at home, I’ve decided I am not interested in being the guest of honor who can not enjoy the catering. If I am going to be the subject of a eulogy, I would like to be able to fact-check it (sorry, that is the Virgo in me talking).
The Ultimate Party Plan
People often spend their later years “planning” their funerals – picking out favorite verses and hymns or poems and songs. It is practical, but let’s be honest, it is a bit of a chore. (I’ve already had to plan a husband’s funeral and I don’t want that chore for my family.) I do not want to plan a service. I want to plan a party. I want to curate the vibe, the menu, and the laughter. There is something incredibly profound about taking the power back from a diagnosis and saying “if we’re going to talk about my life, let’s do it while I am still living it.”
A Gift for Both Sides
I know, some might say it is a bit “main character energy.” But I have realized that this isn’t just for me. It is a weirdly beautiful, healing gift for everyone involved.
For me: I get the rare treasure of closure. I get to see the ripple effect of my life. We all wonder, “Did I matter? Did I do okay?” I get to hear the answer in the voices of my children, my family and my friends.
For you: It is a release valve. Usually, we carry our best tributes to the graveside, heavy with the regret of “I wish I’d told them.” By showing up to my own send-off, I am letting you off the hook. You get to say it to my face. You get to cry on my shoulder instead of a headstone. We get to trade the “if onlys” for “I’m so glad we dids.”
Celebrating the Presence
Death is a thief, but it doesn’t have to be a party pooper. Most ceremonies are about a person who WAS. I want this to be about the person who IS.
I want to see the tears, but I want to be able to hand you the tissue. I want to hear the “remember whens” so I can say, “Actually, it was even funnier than that!” I want to say my goodbyes not through a legal will or a pre-recorded video, but with a hug that lingers… just long enough.
So, consider this my “Save the Date” for the ultimate “Life Premiere.” There will be laughter, there will be stories, and yes, it might be a little awkward – but the best parts of life usually are.
I have spent my life doing my best to show up for the people I love. I’ll be damned if I’m going to miss the biggest party they ever throw for me.
So til then…. let’s go make some more memories!