This past weekend, my husband and I spent time with family honoring a good friend of ours at his visitation and funeral. He was only 46 years old and such a wonderful father, son, and friend to so many people. Hearing others speak of the loss that they felt and feeling it ourselves, it was difficult not to reflect on our own lives and ask the question, “What would my funeral be like? How would other people remember me?”
Well, I have come to the conclusion that mine would be thought of as something like Taco Tuesdays. You see, in life, that is how I see myself with other people. You know how at school they would always have Taco Tuesdays and you would be so excited for that meal. Maybe you were sitting in class on Tuesday morning and your stomach started to grumble and you thought, “Oh my gosh, it is Taco Tuesday, wooo hoooo!” Then, you get to the cafeteria and go through the line. Load up your plate with all that cheese, lettuce and toppings. You can’t wait to sink your teeth into that first taco shell.
Well, this is like how I feel that people view me. If I haven’t seen someone in a while, even a few days, when I do run into them it is always so nice. “Hey, how are you? I haven’t seen you in a while. It is so great to see you again!” We start talking and laughing. Stories are told. Jokes exchanged.
But it is at this point that I feel that others start to remember that they just might pay for it later after eating all those spices. You see, I realize that while I was growing up, our mom and step pop would always make us feel like we were so unloved and really even so unliked. When I grew up and finally started having real friends, and even acquaintances, that seemed to like to be around me, I just went overboard. I had to make them laugh and make them want to be around me. I had to tell stories that were interesting and caught their attention. But in doing this, I was too much. That is how I feel I am with people. You can only take me in small doses. I feel this so strongly that recently I have started to consciously make myself walk away after just a few minutes of conversation with people just in case I am starting to be like that acid reflux from the earlier tacos that happens every Tuesday night as they are going to bed.
But I recognize this, so that is a good thing. And another good thing that came from this weekend, I have started to really plan out my own funeral celebration. Yes, you read that right, celebration. No weepy, sad funeral visitation for me. I want a party. I have secretly been writing letters and videotaping small messages that I want to be shown at my funeral. I want great 80’s music to be playing. I want to be cremated and disposed of by my boys and husband but not at the celebration. My spirit is what I want to be remembered by, not my creepy, frozen-in-time body that would be laid out and gawked at. “She looks good.” is a phrase that I wouldn’t want to be uttered as people filed by my casket. I wouldn’t look good, I would be dead. The good and the bad about me is what I want people to discuss. I don’t care if I irritated people and that is what they choose to share with others about me. Wait to you hear my recorded messages, I share a lot of my irritations too! Just kidding …… maybe. Anyway, I want my life celebration to be real. And to be real it has to involve my flaws. I have a lot of them. But if people can talk about my flaws then surely they can talk about what I did that made them smile and ultimately made them love me enough to come and celebrate my death. Wait, what?!
Anyway, finally, I want a Taco Bar to be served at my life celebration. You fuckers are all going to have acid reflux one more time because of me!
The Bad Example 