ENDINGS

On Thursday, January 15, 2015, my "Seven Habits" Franklin Planner suggested that I write my own eulogy.  (That would be Habit Two:  "Begin With the End in Mind.")  The "Seven Habits" don't fool around.  I was directed to be specific, but I was also to "involve as many emotions and senses as possible."  I'm not exactly sure how the senses fit in here, but the emotions are running pretty high right now.

Practically speaking, I would have to agree that having a eulogy on hand would be a good thing. I mean, really, why leave something as important as your record here on earth to chance?  In all honesty, your kids are busy and may only have time to fly in shortly before the funeral service, then drive directly back to the airport. If your eulogy hasn't already been written and edited, it could get very short shrift.

Finally, my Franklin Planner also notes that "This [writing of my eulogy] can be a very enlightening exercise." Well, I'm sure that may be true, but do I really want to be enlightened in that way?  I don't know.  I'm just a little ambivalent.

What should be included in this document?  Some might desire a lengthy list of accomplishments, while others would prefer a simple, quiet retelling.    Then again, a pack of outright lies could be entertaining. Would anyone really know the difference?  In my neighborhood, probably not.  We've all moved here from somewhere else at an advanced age and, if we're imaginative enough, can be anybody we damned well please.

My mother wrote her own eulogy when she was well into her 80s, or early 90s.  It wasn't long, but it covered activities and experiences important to her.  It was part of her funeral service which she had also detailed.  In all honesty, my Mom always intimidated me to one degree or another and, being the dutiful daughter, her eulogy--word for word as she had written it--was read by the priest at her service.

But, he never saw how gorgeous she was in college when she was nominated for Queen of this or that.  He had no idea of the professional men she dated in her 20s, finally throwing them all over for my quiet and unassuming dad.   This well-intentioned priest could never imagine how intelligent she was, reading, understanding and leading Great Book seminars.  He only knew a weak and wizened woman in a nursing home obsessively repeating a garbled Hail Mary.

I wouldn't suggest that "Seven Habits" is wrong, but eulogies may be best when they're written in love and remembrance.  In the small thoughts that made an afternoon brighter and a fever more bearable.  In the lopsided birthday cakes and the handmade doll clothes.  In the love and pride of a daughter who still believes her Mom was the prettiest in all the world.

I'm throwing caution to the winds, "Seven Habits," and I'm going to let friends and family express what they remember about me and what was important to them.  For better or for worse, that's the end I choose to have in mind.

Amen.