Vol III: #75 Funeral Parties
My dad has always said he wants us to through a party when he dies. He also asked us to play all nine part of Shine On You Crazy Diamond by Pink Floyd, with its 26 minute running time. The first request to party we will honor, but I’m not subjecting the people in attendance to an epically weird, electric rock opera. But, after watching the live stream of a funeral today (for a family member), I renewed my resolve to honor my father in death. There will be no somber officiant, preaching to the assembly. No tired alter call. I want music and memories and drinks and food he’d love to eat with us.
I understand grief, but I do not understand the need to make a funeral a solemn affair. Even the tragic ones. We aren’t entitled to life. And it is only out of some sense of entitlement that we see death as “untimely.” And, I’ve seen plenty of death, watched a lot of people respond poorly to it, including me. The key is to live and be intentional rather than reactionary. Funerals ought to be a time of gratitude and celebration. Of course, it’s a ok to cry and miss someone (I’m not an asshole.) Children who miss a parent or parents who lose children have a right to that grief. But to be defined by it? That’s not how to live.
The first time I heard my dad ask for a funeral party I thought he was nuts, but I get it now. It’s better to celebrate what was and what lives on rather than moan what will never be. And I want that for me. I want my friends to gather on a beach or in a forest, throw back whatever beverages suits them, and laugh. Oh please laugh, tis my funeral request. Laugh at my mistakes and misadventures. Laugh at all my failed career choices. Laugh and remember the moments we shared. But please laugh. And then, go live.
