Celebrating in style!

I looked down at the floor. I took note of the curve of the tile. My wife would say something. I would grunt a yes or no back. I would look up occasionally, but I wasn’t really sure where to focus. We were waiting in line to make our way into the funeral viewing for the father of a friend.

The line went out the funeral home and down the street. We had made it inside, but still had a long wait. We felt out of place. But we also felt that it was the right thing to do. We both grew up in homes where our parents lectured us on the importance of attending funerals and viewing. My wife’s dad used to tell her that you go to support friends and family. Mine told me that it was “the right thing to do.”

Funerals are such sad states of affairs. There’s tears. There’s hushed silence. You want to offer your condolences, but the words never seem to come out right.

When the Saints Go Marching In

Now I hope to live a long life. A long happy life. But I’ve been thinking about what I want to happen when I die. I’ve written about it a few times in the past. I want something different from other people. Funerals and tears go hand in hand. It’s a natural thing. If I have to go, though, here’s how I wanna go.

No sad tear-filled funeral for me. I want, well, how do I put this: I want a party. A party to end all parties.

–I want music. And when I say music, I don’t mean classic “church” pieces like Ave Maria, Amazing Grace, On Eagles Wings, or Joyful Joyful. My wife likes them, so sure play them, but I’m talking about party anthems like AC/DC’s For Those About to Rock, We Salute You or Kool and the Gang’s Celebration. I’m talking lots of great 80s music from U2, Billy Joel, Bruce Springsteen, and others. I definitely want Led Zeppelin’s Stairway to Heaven. I’m not a big Beastie Boys fan, but I could see their You Gotta Fight for Your Right To Party! For a twisted, sarcastic friend or two, I could even see AC/DC’s Highway to Hell. 

–I want stories. I want my family to talk about the crazy things I’ve done. I want my son to talk about the time I took all three kids to the park. It was going to be a special day, some Daddy and kid time. Or so we thought. We had just gotten out of the car when I swung the Wiffle ball bat and the ball hit my son smack-dab on the face. In my mind’s eye, I can still see the look of shock on his little face. His nose started gushing blood. It seemed to be flying every which way. He was in tears. His sister wasn’t sure what to do. His youngest brother was still in my arms and had no clue what was going on. Of course, we turned right around and went home like we had never left. Some Special Day that one turned out to be!

I want my daughter to tell the stories about me picking her up from high school. We would talk about little things like the friends she was making and big things like how she shined in her World Cultures class, answering every question her teacher asked the class. We discussed other topics too. We even came up with our own answers to solving world hunger. (If only the rest of the world would listen.)

At Death’s Door

–I want ice cream. My daughter and I have long joked that the best way to end a cold day is with two scoops of ice cream. We came up with the joke after sitting through a frigid college football game at my Alma Mater. When I die my body will be cold as they come, so yea, let’s have some ice cream. Several rounds of Ben and Jerry’s or Hershey’s best for everyone in attendance.

–I want friends and family and even people I don’t know. All good parties have a mix of all three.

–I want balloons and decorations. Some confetti too. Oh, I want pictures and photos. I want my friends to know that they meant something to me.

Going through the Valley of Death

–I want Bible verses that are inspiring and full of encouragement. I’m a believer so I want a prayer of thanks to God. But No Debbie Downer verses here. I’m thankful for my wife and kids and everything that God has given me. In keeping with the theme, I want prayers and verses about living on after death. I want mourners to walk away full of hope, peace, and love.

I’ll get the ball rolling. Here’s one: “I sought the Lord, and he heard me; and he delivered me from all my fears.” Psalm 34-4.

–I want party attendees to have fun. I want champagne toasts, right. I’m starting a new adventure of sorts. Wouldn’t that be appropriate? For my brother-in-law, I want Louis XIII Cognac, a prestigious French cognac produced by Rémy Martin. It is made from a blend of 1,200 individual cognacs. Some of the cognacs are up to 100 years old. Now it costs a few pennies, running as much as $5,500 for a 750 ml bottle. My brother-in-law and I have joked over the years about walking into some high-brow bar and, for the hell of it, buying a pricey shot of the cognac. My wife will have my insurance money. If ever there’s a time to live dangerously, wouldn’t this be it? I won’t be there to share it with my brother-in-law. If I’m going to where I hope, umm heaven, then I’m sure that I won’t mind. Let’s not think about that other place. I probably still won’t care about a cognac splurge. Cheers everyone. Of course, I expect my brother-in-law and the rest of the party-goers to offer me a toast or two.

–I want copies of a few of my blogs to be hung up on the bar. If anything will get people to laugh, it will be my misplaced commas. I tend to make up my own grammar rules as I go along. Hopefully, my habit of overdoing it with exclamation points and ellipses will bring out a smile as well. Oh, I’m kidding. But, if I’ve left any legacy, outside of my family, than it’s my writing. For better or for worse.

Time to party

–I want to be cremated. No fancy caskets for me. I’d prefer to keep it simple. “From ashes to ashes, from dust to dust” we all decay and return to where it all started. Put my ashes up on the bar and toast me every so often. I’ll be happy with that.

–I want laughs. I want smiles. Oh, I’m sure there will be a tear or two, but I’d much prefer tears of laughter. I want my friends and family to leave the party feeling happy. I want them to know that they are loved. Doesn’t that sound a whole lot better than a funeral?

If I have to go, than I want people to have a good time. Too practical? Not reverent enough? Or perfect? What do you think?

Related Quotes:

“Remember that wherever your heart is, there you will find your treasure.” —Paulo Coelho

“My father didn’t tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it.” —Clarence Budington Kelland

“Love is really the only thing we can possess, keep with us, and take with us.” —Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

“The purpose of life, after all, is to live it, to taste experience to the utmost, to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experience.” —Eleanor Roosevelt

Related Stories:

• Planning my own goodbye party
• At Death’s Door
• A death hits close to home
• Wiping away the tears