On Tuesday, I mentioned I lost a co-worker to a stroke.
I struggled with whether I would attend the memorial service today- I didn’t know him personally, but professionally I had worked directly (and indirectly) with him for 6 months.
So this morning when I was dressing, I decided to go. I wore black pants, a deep blue sleeveless shirt, a black shrug, and black sandals. I thought that was appropriate – black with a little touch of color it had been years (thankfully) since I had been at a funeral, so I had no clue what was really the “right” thing to wear.
A 1:50, a co-workers and I car-pooled to the church just down the road from my office.
The church as packed, standing room only.
It was amazing to see all the people that were in his life.
His whole family was there (they live out of state), even though they had just had the funeral yesterday in his hometown. They each spoke about his life and while they had some funny stuff, most of it was so sad to hear.
I had, at the last minute, thought to grab a few tissues off my desk and throw them in my purse – thank goodness.
I successfully held back tears through a lot of the service, though when his best friends, mom, sister, and partner each spoke, I was a mess.
It is so hard to see people in pain. So was my co-worker.
His memorial really hit me hard – again, I don’t know why.
It really made me think about my own mortality, and strangely, my own funeral logistics.
Not that I think I am going to die tomorrow (knock on wood) but seeing everyone at this memorial, it just makes me thing about what I would want for my funeral.
Like I would “Songbird” by Eva Cassidy played.
And a closed casket, with instead a photo next to the casket of me at my best, not open casket.
I want someone to put tissue boxes in each pew, not because I think people will cry over me, but because, darn it, when you need one you need one and when they are not there, it is horrible!
I would hope my friends and family would be willing and able to tell stories about me that would make the memorial attendees laugh and cry.
And I hope there is a reception afterwards for people to laugh, cry happy tears, eat, mingle and celebrate my life, not morn it.
I don’t have a will.
I don’t have any “plans”. (Wait. I DO have a medical directive- after the Terry Schiavo case, I made sure my family knew what to do if I couldn’t make decisions for myself. In writing. So I guess I have one plan.)
At 31 and single, most people don’t (unless they are making bank).
It scares me that my co-worker was only 7 years older than me.
And it made me want to make sure I am reminding the most special people in my life how important they are to me. Because I don’t do that enough and I really really need to.
I am sorry for all this “dark” talk, but this is a cathartic way for me to get this out without “worrying” my family and friends. This blog is a way for me to talk things out—things that would normally roll around in my head for days or weeks and keep me up at night. It is a way talk things out in a healthy way. And I thank you for your comments on the previous post–you are all so kind.
I promise light and airy posts soon, including giveaways!! Whoo Hoo!
Oh, and I have been in bed alllllllll day. Yep. I didn’t even make it to the living room. I did get the newspaper that was delivered and I did get all my coupons in a spreadsheet so I will be able to find them easier (ok not all my coupons but I did get all this weeks done)…