a template for my funeral

photo credit: lisa cee

Most of my immediate family packed in a car and headed to Little Rock last Tuesday for my grandfather’s grave side service.  It was small and cold- he had outlived all his contemporaries.  It was the certain kind of cold where the winds whip up tears, making it hard to know who was crying for our loss and who was weeping for the  indoors.  And believe it or not, it was a good time.  I think this is due in sole part to the fact that we did something all too rare at these awkward farewells- we sat around and told stories.  That was the funeral- the ones that knew him best and had gathered to remember, did not just sit and receive words from another but they stood and gave as well- reminiscing of his strength, his love of family, and his propensity to curse at the most inopportune moments.

When you bury me- and you will, save His return- gather ’round, you ones I left here where I would not return if offered, and tell stories.  Tell them honestly and don’t forget my flaws the minute I no longer have them.  Laugh hard and eat a meal and hug those around you.  Do not mourn for me; exert your mournful energy on your own behalf.  This is not our home.