I've been having trouble sitting down to write entries for this... The last few weeks before Spring Break were a bit nuts--although I was surprised that I didn't have even more to do. But now I'm back.
The younger brother of one of my good high school friends died a week ago. He was twenty. I went to the funeral and to the Shiva, but I'm having trouble connecting personally to how she must feel. On some level, I think, I just don't want to go there. I want to spare myself the pain she must be feeling. But over the course of the week, I found myself wondering what my funeral might be like if I were to die suddenly. I know. I know. I know. I am being incredibly morbid. But I couldn't help myself. What would people say about me? I haven't done half of the things that my friend's brother did--and he was two years younger than I am. I don't think that I have touched anywhere near as many lives as he did. But, then again, I am a totally different person, and that is completely ok... So my funeral would, naturally, be very different. I am quieter. I am more introspective.
But the question remains: what would my funeral be like? It would be unique to me, but what else? After I got back from Germany a few years ago, I pulled my mother aside one afternoon and gave her a postcard with a picture of a little church that was built in the neutral zone after the Berlin Wall was taken down. It actually reminds me of churches in the Southwest. It is simple, full of clean lines and smooth surfaces. I think that it was one of the most beautiful places that I have ever been. I asked my mother to go there, if anything should happen to me, and to remember me there. I came across the postcard recently, in the back of one of her desk drawers. I hope she remembers. I actually think that I would like that better than a big service. I would want the people for whom I cared most to remember me in places that made my mind sing with possibilities, all rushing to the front of my consciousness in a colorful jumble that brought tears to my eyes.
Hannah -- isn't is amzaing how joy and sorrow both bring tears to our eyes. I don't think you are being morbid, just realistic, since it is the human condition to contemplate but not ever be able to fully grasp our own non-existence. These musings will make you a better, stronger and clearer writer. Please accept my condolences on losing someone so young. There will be plenty of time for you to reach out and support you friend. Love to you, Aunt Diane
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