Planning my own…

October 4th, 2008

One of my favorite “Designing Women” episodes was “Killing All the Right People,” not for its social commentary (though I do agree with it) but for the jazz funeral at the end. If you don’t know the episode (and geez, shouldn’t you? I mean, it was an amazing show!), one of the girls’ young friends - a man in his 20s - came to them and asked them to design his funeral. He knew he was dying and had the funds to redecorate a room in one of the local funeral homes. He knew exactly what he wanted, and when they showed a short scene from his funeral at the end, it was just as he had envisioned.

I love the idea of people gathering, not only in sorrow but in joy, to celebrate a life. Right before Eliza’s birthday each year, much to Mike’s chagrin, I tend to think about my own funeral, what it would be like. (For those of you who haven’t been reading here long or don’t know me in real life, Eliza’s entrance into this world was a bit sudden and completely due to her mama being too sick to continue carrying her.)

When I think about it, I have the usual Chel worries… would anyone but Mike and the kids show up? I mean, sheesh, my grandparents won’t fly anywhere, and my brother hasn’t left Arkansas in years. … would Mike think to tell those people I knew and loved so long ago in high school? would he even know who they are?

But most times, I just think about how non-traditional I would want it to be. Cremate me. Skip the church. Have everyone meet in Central Louisiana at a great Mexican restaurant, drink margaritas and tell stories about me. Have someone not a minister give my eulogy. Let everyone tell how silly and obssessed and whatnot I was. In my head, people make Mike laugh.

My sister-in-law, Nicole, is expecting my newest niece. I’m praying about her so often these days because I’m just terrified for her. Mike reminds me that the number of women who die or nearly die in childbirth is incredibly low these days, to which I respond that both Mandy and I nearly did, and that’s pretty much my frame of reference. He hugs me, smiles, and tells me to get over it, that Nicole and baby London will be fine, even if I’m still gonna be crazy.

I’ve pretty much, mostly given up the guilt associated with Eliza’s untimely entrance into this world - on my dad’s birthday - and now I’m just so very grateful to have been given this second chance at life. I am grateful to spend more and more days with Mike, to be able to love these kids, to be blessed by the best of friends. I’m grateful to have a soul-sucking job that I am only moderately good at… to be close to family and cousins for the kids… to have the chance to love and hate all of the little and big things of life.

In the end, I hope my funeral would be full of people who have loved me, who have felt touched in some way by my life (you know, preferably a positive way). I think we can’t possibly know how many people that might be… two or 10. But I know that I’ve been blessed by countless folks through my life. Around Eliza’s birthday, I tend to want to make sure those folks know how wonderful they are & how much I appreciate them. But they probably get tired of the ‘i’m glad i didn’t die & geez, you’re wonderful’ email every year.

So, to all of you… I’m glad I didn’t die, and geez, you’re wonderful.

And at the funeral, you’re gonna have to buy your own margaritas. Try the salsa. It’s yummy.

(My brother, who didn’t comment, sent me this song, saying it was perfect for this post.)

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