For today’s daily prompt, we are supposed to discuss what kind of legacy we would like to leave once we shed our mortal coil.
Those of you who have been reading my blog for a while now (hi mom) know that I don’t like to take myself too seriously. Sure, I could write about how I want to be remembered for the kind and generous person that I am (hey, quit laughing) or for my contributions to medical research (limit of tequilas one can ingest before singing Barry Manilow in a karaoke bar: four). But that would be cliched, and if there’s one thing I’m not, it’s Mexican. Or cliched (okay, two things).
Instead, I decided to share with you what I have discussed with my friends regarding my possible untimely demise. I’m sure you too, magical internet friend, have thought about what would happen if you passed away prematurely. Would people come to your funeral? Would your best friends howl at the moon every night for their lost comrade? Sure, it’s morbid, but we all wonder from time to time, right?
About a year ago, I was in a serious car accident. My car was completely totalled and I was really, really lucky to escape virtually unscathed. After my friends had comforted me and liquored me up good, we began to discuss (as you do) what would have happened if I hadn’t been so lucky. My friend turned to me and said something that got me thinking:
“Jane, I know you hate funerals. I know you don’t consider yourself catholic anymore, so what kind of funeral could you possibly have? I mean you’d just hate all that serious and solemn hymn stuff, and I’d know that, so it wouldn’t feel right. What would we do? How could we say our final farewell to you?”
Okay, I’ll admit that it was a weird conversation to have but it seemed necessary. My friend was right, I hate funerals. I don’t want to cause any offence here, but the traditional Irish funeral is not the way I want to be sent off. And the thing is, you might say “why do you have to be different? Why should you get special treatment?” but I’m not religious so I don’t want to be a hypocrite. I’m not saying I want a send-off of Hunter S. Thompson proportions, but I certainly don’t want a funeral where a guy who doesn’t know me postulates about what kind of person I might have been with generic statements. Irish funerals are also expensive and I don’t want to put that expense on my friends and family. I mean, I’ll be gone. They will be devastated…right? RIGHT? Hey, is that tumbleweed?
So we all decided to share with each other how we would like our lives to be celebrated. When it got to my turn, my friends knew to expect the unexpected. I wanted something that would be memorable and that would confuse the heck out of everyone attending. I’m also a bit of a prankster, and in the words of my favourite poet W.B. Yeats “in balance with this life, this death”.
So, without further ado, here is what my memorial service is going to be like:
(This is not a religious funeral and there is no offence intended here. If any offence is caused, it’s possibly because you’re Bill O’ Reilly.
1. It must be held in oneof the following: a hay barn, a medieval town hall or on a moving bus.
2. The following music will be played as the congregation piles in: (Because I’m so popular*, I chose two songs.)
A) Sex on the Beachby T-Spoon
B) The Next Episodeby Dr. Dre and Snoop Dogg.
3. The narrative of my life must be told through an interpretive dance off between my friends.
4. A video of me performing the Thriller dance by Michael Jackson must be played. (Note to self: Learn Thriller dance. Buy red leather clothing. Make video.)
5. My mother must give the eulogy in the form of a gangsta rap. (She doesn’t know this yet.)
6. Someone (I’m looking at you, Jack) must play Wind Beneath my Wingson a kazoo.
7. The service will close with a musical number. I’m thinking a Greasemedley. I have been promised spirit fingers and jazz hands galore.
8. Closing song: Celebrate by Kool and the Gang
For those of you who think I’m kidding, I assure you I’m not. I’m also not trying to be disrespectful to anyone here; I would just like to bring a smile to the faces of those I love during a time that would otherwise be depressing and somber. I would like my legacy to be this: that people remember how, erm, unique I am. And that my funeral was like a Stanley Kubrick dream.
If you’re reading this, you’re totally invited. Because, let’s face it, it will be the most fun funeral ever. Jane: putting the “fun” in funeral. Welcome.
*with my pets