Going to My Own Funeral

by admin on November 12, 2013

Because I am not one whit afraid of dying, I don’t mind the vocabulary.  One day I am going to die. I will not “pass”, nor will I “pass away”; no one is  going to “lose” me, I will not expire.  I might “croak” a la Abraham. I really like the irreverence of “croak”.  If, after I croak, anyone says the I “lost my battle with cancer” – I am going to come back and haunt them!! First of all I don’t think I will “lose my battle with cancer” – au contraire, I think the condition labelled cancer is giving me a serious goose towards the healthiest living possible.  I intend to jolly up my immune system so much that it dances and sings a song.

So if I am not afraid of the D word, I am certainly not afraid of this F word – F U N E R A L. Though I admit I really like CELEBRATION OF LIFE, what my friends are calling what they threw me on Sunday.  There were 12 of us: my cousins KI and JI, and most of the closest folks in my life. I loved that people who had been hearing about the others finally got to meet them. E(7 years old) and her mom DD played a lovely piano duet for me – and E played a second song of her own invention.  DD’s wonderful 16 year old son played 100 years on the piano and then Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah on the guitar and sang. Gorgeous!  The whole event was fun – dawgs and cats and delicious food and basking in the glow of one’s friends.  MUCH better to do it when you are still above ground. Many thanks to JN whose brainchild this was and who orchestrated the thing.

It is not that anyone thinks I am on my way out, but when you have stage 3a ovarian cancer, the subject does come up.  I HIGHLY recommend attending your own funeral. And now no fuss required when I actually do croak one day. 


 

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