My Funeral

Grace is in a community theatre production of Cinderella and yesterday was a mandatory work day for all parents. Bob and I went to strike the set of the show that just closed and did as little as possible while still trying to look "involved". The truth is, we are too old for heavy lifting. I was never so grateful for acrylic nails as yesterday when they rendered me helpless for some of the icky work. Still, we came home sore.

However, we did have a very interesting lunch break. Bob and I drove to the Denny's around the corner for a quick "Grand Slam" breakfast/lunch and as we were eating what is certainly the stuff that heart attacks are made of (and perhaps because of it), Bob blurts out: "I know what I'm going to do for your funeral - I've got it all planned".

This statement completely caught me off guard. I thought he was joking and then I realized he was not. I wondered if he also had my murder all planned out.

I asked him WHY he had given any thought to it, let alone have the whole thing planned and he explained that when he and I recently sang at the funeral of a friend's mother, one that had some very lovely elements, he got to thinking what he would do for me. I thought it presumptuous that he would assume I was going before he was, but since I would certainly prefer it that way, I decided not to quibble about it. I asked him, what, then, is my service going to be like.

First of all, it is going to be held in a beautiful church with lots of stained glass - which he knows I love. Our church is a wonderful church but it is of the modern architecture variety and not only does it not have stained glass, it has no windows. So good - he's considered my feelings about the venue.

Next, he says that once everyone is seated, he will open with the theme to "On Golden Pond" which is one of my most favorite pieces of music in the entire world. I will often play that ten times in a row for the serene and happy place it takes me. I hadn't realized that Bob had paid attention.

He went on to describe that he would show a montage of video and photos from my life and break it into three parts, starting as me as a girl and moving through my life. For the section showing my youth, he will play the Beatles (yeah!!) song "In My Life", and select other music that I love to represent other times. There will be Broadway show tunes.

The pastor will speak, the family will speak, and then he says that he will tell everyone who wants to - in advance - that they can speak - but he must know in advance because he doesn't like that moment when the pastor says "if anyone would like to say a few words about (blank) they are welcome to come up now" and then no one comes.

He will end with a recording from one of the speeches I have given that is inspirational and then he will have hired a choir to come in and sing my absolute favorite hymn ever. It's called "Here I Am". And then he will open the doors and it will be over.

Can I tell you how unbelievably pissed I am that I will not be there?

The only down side was that I tried to listen to "On Golden Pond" in the car today. I'm afraid I couldn't. I couldn't hear it without crying for myself. (Such a pity!) He may have ruined it for me in this life.

So here's the thing. This conversation was very bizarre but it made me absolutely love that man all over again because he knows me. He knows me enough to know exactly what I would have wanted my funeral to be like. He loves me and he wants it to be nice. For me. And so now I guess I have to plan his. It will begin with Jimmy Durante singing "Make Someone Happy". I have to figure out the rest.

This is certainly the weirdest, darkest, morbid, bizarro, love letter exchange ever. And what can I say? We're the bizarro Smiths. I guess that explains it all.