I went to a funeral for Pat’s father last week. I knew his father Joe, which is to say we had met a few times and he was the company’s banker. I didn’t really go to the funeral for Joe; I mostly went to be there for Pat.
During the funeral, I sorted out a few things: One is; it’s important to be reconciled with our family members and loved ones. Joe had become estranged to his three kids, mostly for reasons of stubbornness and silly pride. And when he died suddenly at age 55, there was no opportunity for him to get things straight with them or, for that matter, for his kids to find a tidy finality. I know life doesn’t always give us the closure we seek, but it seemed to be added cruelty for Pat to have to say good-bye with so much left unanswered.
I also decided I want to mean more to people than to have my golfing buddies tell recent stories about me. In fact, it would be my inclination to have those closest to me – Mrs. Laz and the Lazettes preferably – be the ones to tell the bad jokes about me and the stories that make up who I am. At least I hope I will end up being more than a golfing story, as it seemed Joe did. I am sure Pat and his sibblings would have had much better and more caring memories.
Finally, I don’t want a casket or a church to be the setting for my final send-off. Ed Asner, playing Lou Grant on the Mary Tyler Moore Show, once told his friends that should he die, they were instructed to “Just put him out with the next day’s trash.” My dad thought that was pretty funny and constantly reminded us that’s what he wanted and I believed him. But he got a casket instead, and just knowing his cold body was in the box below me as I gave his eulogy was nearly too much to bear.
After I kick the bucket, just stick up some good photos of me and let everyone tell a favorite story. Perhaps the Boy can talk about all the sports and travel we did together and then get his cousins drunk again as that would seem fitting. The girl can tell how we had our own separate language and how it was often quite colorful. I don’t need nor want kneeling and eating wafers to sum up who I am. I want to be remembered for being flesh and blood and not for the symbols that wine and wafers represent.
Well, actually, I don’t want to die if that can be arranged. Who do I see about that request?
3 comments:
If I'm still standing after you're gone, can I tell stories too?
My darling dear Mr. Laz,
I will make it my final tribute to you to make sure that your memorial wishes are met to the exact detail you desire. No golf stories, no wafers, nieces and nephews drunk as skunks and last but not least the "next days trash" wish is done-my only worry is a strike by those darn sanitation workers, then you will have to hang around awhile.
Loads of love,
Mrs. Laz
p.s. I would like to talk to whom ever you track down about that not dying-just want to put in my request.
Of course, you have to outlive me and you know I am doing my darndest to knock you off.
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