The topic de la semaine hereabouts has been my funeral planning. Contemplating one’s own final arrangements is a subject sure to brighten any day.
Dad has been investigating funeral homes and memorial marker.
I get hung up on a couple of points as I walk through all this. One, the whole discussion just makes me want to cry. Two, what is the proper balance between my desires and the needs and desires of those closest to me?
The first I just deal with. So much of my life is devastating these days, what’s one more incitement to grief?
The second I think I have a solution for, at least in my context. We’re probably going to have a small, private set of observances at my time of death and shortly thereafter, probably to be led by Mother of the Child’s Buddhist pastor.
Sometime a bit later on, a larger, public memorial service for my extended family, friends, fans and whoever wants to show up, will likely be led by Ken. That will be the last JayCon and/or the second JayWake, depending on how one wishes to look at it.
For the most part, my own desires are nebulous. In simplest terms, I won’t be here to care. But I am very mindful of how the rituals of my death affect the grieving processes of
There’s all kinds of details: Scattering the ashes? Memorial diamonds? What plaque and where? Much of this will be handled in a series of meetings next Monday.
I do know what I want for the epitaph on my marker. It comes down to a choice between two different things I wrote in Kalimpura.
“What are years to me? Like pain, they pass unnoticed.”
“In end, so is the beginning. In the beginning, so is the end.”
The first is more obscure but pointed. The second is more universal but borders on the cliched. Neither can sum up my life, any more than any epitaph ever can for anyone. The dying process itself sums up one’s life.
So it goes.