I don't like going to viewings.
I don't like going to viewings of young people.
And especially, I don't like going to viewings of people who died of cancer.
But, supported by Jerry and my closest Marlborough friends, that's what I did last evening.
I didn't know Joe very well. He'd grown up and moved away not too long after we'd moved here, and when he moved back last year so that his mother and sister could care for him, most of our brief conversations consisted of words of encouragement and questions about each other's treatments.
So going to the funeral home last night made me think less about his life and death than my own.
There are the morbid logistics: if Jerry puts me in an open casket, I swear I'll rise out of it and chase him screaming around the room.
The quirky: So where could they fit the Westmoreland Town Band to play Wonderful World in these little rooms?
The wistful: but here are all these people and I won't have a chance to share a last joke or expression of love.
And then I take refuge in denial: I'm here, there's no point in getting ahead of myself, and besides, the rite is for those who are left.
For me, it will be beside the point.
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What do you do when you find out you have pancreatic cancer? Tell everyone about it, of course. Why "green bananas?" Because we keep buying them as a sign of faith in the future. What do we need from you? Good thoughts and the occasional bad joke.
3 comments:
When I wrote my will and talked to my kids about it by phone, Jess asked if I wanted to be buried or cremated. I said cremated, and I want the 2 of them to arrange a time together to scatter my ashes somewhere appropriate, like Arches. Jess said she doesn't think she'd like my urn sitting on her mantle for months while they organize themselves. I said she should just stick it in a closet or something, because, "By that time, I assure you I won't care."
By that time, I think there is something better. I don't know what--I just think there is.
Hey these are all natural and common thoughts. having been surrounded by death for the past few years, I couldn't help but think about my own arrangements. But then yeah, you realize that it's not worth dwelling on. Write it down, tell someone and then forget about it.
my father went so far as to write his own obituary when he was told he would not survive his cancer. He also spoke with the funeral home about want he wanted. His made the funeral prep easier for us but not his death
Robin WTB
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