So today I went to the funeral for one of my dearest friend's mother. Miss Mille.
Sigh, followed by a deep breath.
The ceremony itself was lovely. The woman it was held for was engaging and beautiful. Her friends and family shares stories of a vibrant, dynamic trail blazer who studied law and worked on the aerospace industry in the 60's and 70's. A woman who loved her children and her children's friends. A woman who became so close to her best friend Luana that they became family. She called Luana her "chosen sister". A woman with a hot rod running around town and soaking up Southern California life with a smile and a twinkle in her eye.
Of course, you cannot help but have thoughts during a funeral. Thoughts of what was the last funeral you attended, and when was it? Who was it? Has it been a long time - or far too recent? The dreaded unavoidable thought.....who will be the next person you lose? How old is your mother? Your father? You look at your friends at the front of the room and think how are they managing to make it through, and what will it feel like when you are in that chair again.
One of her teenage grandsons stood up to say a few words. He shared how he remembers playing basketball at Grandma's house, and how she would clap and say "Bravo!!!" every time he made a shot. He broke down at the enormity of knowing that he would never hear that bravo, that beloved voice again. If only he could call an encore. And in that moment of humanity, that shared instinctual connection we have, most of the room broke into tears as this tall, handsome, young man fell apart at the finality of it all.
The preacher went on towards the end about how Jesus was giving Miss Millie a tour of her mansion in heaven right now....as she had earned her way into heaven by being so loving in life. He was quite compelling and descriptive, which I admire. Those of you that know me will not be surprised that my thoughts went off course during his lovely description of Miss Millie being ushered through the pearly gates. Perhaps the mansion in heaven was her 89 years here on earth. Maybe this is our nirvana. We need to see the angels amongst us while gravity still has effects on our souls....our kids....our families....our friends....our chosen sisters and brothers....our strangers we meet.
It is hard for me to believe that there is a Quality Control Inspector type of God, monitoring whether or not we loved enough or gave enough or wore the right headwear or undergarments to qualify to get into a post mortem heaven. I just cannot wrap my mind around an invisible man in the sky that is checking attendance records for church. I imagine a God that is more of an embrace with open arms than standing with a clipboard and performance report. (That probably just earned me a demerit on my permanent record.)
Then as I often do, my thoughts reengaged with what the pastor was sharing. In a wonderful surprise, he ended his eulogy with an impromptu rendition of Joe Cocker's "You are So Beautiful" which I found refreshing and random all at the same time. I looked around the room and felt that we truly are all beautiful in our own ways, especially to the ones that love us.
Miss Millie had an open casket. At the end of the service, we all had the opportunity to pay our last respects. I went up and looked at her peaceful face, and I told her that she had inspired me today. That she had reignited my passion to get out there and live. And I told her that I hoped I make it to 89, and that I will fill my life up as much as I am able to in my years, and in my way.
At the gravesite I felt too tall, too blonde, too shiny. I quietly retreated under the shade of a tree, and felt like I had to be alone, even away from my friends for a few moments. I turned to see a woman kneeling down at a gravesite about 100 feet away, planting flowers at a grave, and my focus shifted away from hearing the now-faint preacher's voice to seeing this bereaved woman, obsessing over the placement of each plant, each flower, arranging and rearranging. It was as if she was trying to fill the hole in her heart and her soul with the plants. She had enough plants for twenty graves, and yet they were all for that special one. In that moment, she reminded me of a beaver building a dam in a creek that will not stop flowing. She needed to find enough logs to build the dam to stop her tears and her heartbreak.
Miss Millie had everything planned for her special day. From her casket to her final resting place to the food that would be served at her repast, it was preordained. It certainly made it easier for my friend and her brother. I have several things planned to make it easier for those I leave behind as well, although my plans are not so practical. I have compiled a list of songs that I want to have played at my wake, and at my funeral, and at the party after my funeral. There is a lot of Pink Floyd, New Order, and Burt Bacharach. I love the idea of kicking off the wake with Kenny Loggins' "I'm Alright". When I thought I wanted to be buried, I wanted "Under Pressure" to be played as each person threw a handful of dirt on my coffin. Now that I want to be cremated, I think "Dust in the Wind" as I am scattered over the ocean may be good, if not a little too obvious. Maybe "Another One Bites the Dust" would work?
I want everyone there to wear something pink. And I would like a tray of pink rosebuds available for anyone who does not get the memo to wear pink to have something to put on.
My dream is that everyone who attends would have a chance to share a time that we laughed together. One of the my greatest goals in life is to make people laugh, or at least smile, especially if it seems like it is the last thing on earth they should be doing in that moment. If I have ever made you laugh, either with me or at me, I would love for you to share it with whomever I leave behind.
Miss Millie truly did inspire me today with her life, even though I was there because of her death. She almost made it to 90 - would have turned 90 in January. Eighty nine years is a pretty good life, especially when you fill it with family and cooking and loving and travel and adventure. Thank you for spending time with me today, Miss Millie, and thank you for having me at your party.
No comments:
Post a Comment