A while back my mom was jokingly planning her funeral and handing out assignments. I’m in charge of making sure all the gladiolas at her funeral are crocked. Long-time inside family joke there.
Brett and I joke and talk about it too. It would really suck if one of us were to die any time soon, but we aren’t terribly afraid of it. As we’ve talked I’ve expressed a few firm opinions about a few things, subject to change of course as my life progresses. Because Brett says when I’m dead I don’t get a say in anything, I thought I’d share my opinions with the internet and see if you can’t hold him to a few of them (most particularly how I am to be referenced after I’m dead).
At my funeral drape a quilt over my coffin. Use the spool quilt if I’ve managed to finish it. But don’t bury the quilt. Before putting me in the ground take the quilt off. Use it. That’s what quilts are for.
Sing “Be Still, My Soul,” because that is the hymn that touches my heart more than any others. And while I know that there is still work going on after death, I’d like to think that my soul will have finally managed to be still. Also play “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing.” I’ve decided I really like the piano version of that as played by Chris Rice on “The Living Room Sessions.” So you don’t have to sing it, but it at least needs to be played.
In lieu of flowers, donate to the American Cancer Society (because with the family history I have, it just might be cancer that does me in), March of Dimes, the LDS Church humanitarian fund or perpetual education fund, or the scholarship I’m going to be setting up at some point. If you really want to do flowers, do potted perennials. I’ve never been a fan of annuals (except pansies) because it seems like such a waste to have to plant them over and over again every year, get something that will last and then make it last.
After I’m gone nobody ever better refer to me as “the late” Lisa. Because I promise you I will be more on time after I’m dead than I ever have been in this life. Call me deceased. Call me passed on. Call me dead. But don’t call me late. And hold Brett to this. This is the one he and I “argue” over the most. Although we’ve said he gets to go first because he really gets creeped out by cemeteries and I don’t want him to either get creeped out coming to visit my grave or feel guilty that he isn’t, so it might not even be an issue.
I’ve convinced Brett that if you’re going to put an image on our headstone, it should be clasped hands. You don’t see that on many headstones any more. It’s an old symbol and I really like what it stands for, and what it means to us. So put clasped hands between our names. And put the same stylized binary we had on our wedding invites along the bottom of the headstone, don’t forget to leave off the null terminator.
And definitely make sure there is a large variety of “funeral” potatoes for everyone to taste test after the funeral. I always laugh when I remember my uncle giving his critique of all the different types we had at Grandmother’s funeral.
What would you like to happen at your funeral? Any strong opinions people should know about?