Monday, March 8, 2010

It's My Funeral

I think sometimes of what I would like my obituary to say, having a dark humor and somewhat morbid turn of mind.  Then I feel almost guilty for enjoying such thoughts and never share them, to avoid horrified reactions.  I've found, though, that it can help keep you aware of whether your life is slipping by without you accomplishing what you would have hoped.

I am.  Life is still a work in progress but I am comfortable with where it's going.  With my middle child's birth, nearly two years ago, I had severe complications and had a death experience.  It was never a question of not returning to my self and living, because I had children to raise and knew I wasn't done here yet.

I am at peace with death.  I see it not as an end, but a transition, and hope to be able to share that awareness with my children.  I would want them to know I am still aware of and loving them from the most perfect heaven anyone could imagine for me.   Whatever they feel, I hope they will honor their process and be kind to themselves, and know that I am content and at peace.

I hope those who love me and want to acknowledge my passing will come together and sing, and dance, and party.  Not for mourning, a celebration.  A sharing of good company, good food, and conversation, knowing that they made my life incredibly rich by their presence, and I regret not a single moment spent with them.

I have no investment in what they do with this shell I have inhabited.  I have no attachment to it, it is a vessel only.  For me, there is no need for caskets and headstones, but if it would make them feel better, they can do what they will.  For myself, I'd rather they scatter my ashes on the wind, in the deep and wild green forest in the mountains that I love, to let me go, as my spirit has gone, and hold on to the only thing that really matters: their memories and the love we shared.

I would have people remember me as a mother who loved, a friend who cared and understood.  Everything else I have done with my life doesn't matter so much as these.  I want to be remembered for the times I made them laugh, or brought them peace and comfort in a time of trouble.  I hope my children remember what I've tried most to teach them: kindness, honor, authenticity, respect for life, and most of all, Love, but if they only know that they were loved, it will be enough.
© Lune Wolfsong, July 12, 2007.  Written for a Write On writing group prompt.

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