Eulogy

Today I am grateful for eulogies.  My son, Patrick, gave an amazing eulogy for his father-in-law Wally the other day.  Wally would have said, “Grand slam!  He really hit it outta da park!  It’s outta here!”

It got us all thinking and talking about what might be said about us.  Patrick said, “It’s too bad we don’t all get to hear our eulogies and the comments of those who choose to say a word at our memorial services.”  He’s right.  I wonder what they’d say?

Imagine.  You’re having a crappy day.  The cat, who lapped up an entire dish of beet juice the day before, just pissed on your white Berber carpet.  Your boss, always a reasonable person before, suddenly wonders how you got hired for your job, since you can’t seem to do one thing right.  Your mechanic decides to go into nursing with your car still on the rack and no one has the key to the garage.  You pull up to a stop sign with full bags of junk food from three different slam-your-arteries-shut fast food joints and just as you’re stuffing a triple, bacon, cheese, chicken, ham, bean, sausage, sour cream monster into your head you look over and your fitness instructor is in the next car. . .with that “gottcha” grin. 

If you’ve had similar days, it’s your job, your right, your privilege to turn things around.  Change it up a little.  Don’t ruminate about your lack of self-control, or what you perceive to be your failures.  Pay it forward. . .to yourself.  Write your own eulogy.  Tell yourself how kind you were to a child, what a good friend you are, how much you care about people.  Cherish your concern for the environment, the poor and downtrodden. 

Be simple, don’t force it.  You made someone laugh who really needed a laugh.  You know you did.  Use it!  You held a near-stranger while they cried.  Put it in there.  Search back and find the kindness you did for someone, long forgotten by you, but not by them, that helped define you.  Remind yourself how often and how hard you’ve tried when you didn’t think you had it in you.  Remember the struggles of your youth, which linger long after the internal and external bruises heal. 

Remember also things you didn’t do that you could have.  The idiot who did something stupid in traffic, causing that certain digit of yours to pop up of its own accord, but then you notice the red-faced, snotty toddler screaming bloody murder in her back seat, so you shoot her a sympathetic, knowing smile, instead of a digit.  Or a family member oversteps her authority and behaves abominably, yet you don’t tell her off, even though she probably needs telling off big time.  Imagine someone talking about your life, filled with great moments where instead of mouthing off, you took the high road and shut-up. That sort of control should be included!  It’s huge.  I might try to create a few more of those moments.

Write about your zest for life and your spirit to be alive.   Be grateful that you are here to write your own eulogy. Then, if you want. . .change it up a little. . .before it’s too late.