At a sneeze away from fifty, I’ve been thinking about my teen daughter muddling through college or career, relationships, student debt and just figuring out who she is. She’s not too far off from nineteen -- the age I was when my mom died.
I remember having to discover so much -- too much -- through bumps on the head instead of through her guidance. Now, I figure if can tee my daughter up to be okay by shuffling in all of life’s instructions in the next couple years, AND guidance to learn to be at peace when I’m gone, I will have done my job.
...and if people are crying, I’m gonna be like, 'You have to leave because --
...and we can have John Hiatt and Vince Gill sing….
Now hold on here! I like them NOW -- WHILE I’M STILL BREATHING, okay? How about some concert tickets NOW?
But she was carried away in her zealousness and heard not a word.
I remember having to discover so much -- too much -- through bumps on the head instead of through her guidance. Now, I figure if can tee my daughter up to be okay by shuffling in all of life’s instructions in the next couple years, AND guidance to learn to be at peace when I’m gone, I will have done my job.
We talk about how although I may, but do not plan to make an early exit, there is that reality. The cool thing thing is that the more she grows in her faith, the more she understands that no one’s spirit ever dies. That while we do miss the person’s “container” for awhile, we will eventually be reunited with their spirit.
She gets it. And I feel good about that.
Except she’s a little zealous in her comfort sometimes. Like, she’s got plans. PLANS.
Okay, so I’m thinking a gold theme for your funeral...
Whatwhutnow? YOU like gold everything. I don’t like gold.
...and if people are crying, I’m gonna be like, 'You have to leave because --
People grieve in their own way. Let them cry for crying out loud, so I mean that --
...and we can have John Hiatt and Vince Gill sing….
Now hold on here! I like them NOW -- WHILE I’M STILL BREATHING, okay? How about some concert tickets NOW?
But she was carried away in her zealousness and heard not a word.
...then we’ll bury you on the top of a hill where the sun rises…
I’M NOT DEAD YET. SLOW YOUR ROLL.
Her comfort is bordering on Best Funeral Ever levels.
Days later, one of my best friends stopped over and somehow the conversation was again stumbled upon:
We should have smoke bombs. You know how much she likes smoke bombs...
We should have smoke bombs. You know how much she likes smoke bombs...
And my so-called-best-friend had the nerve enough to concur.
HELLO, I STILL WALK AMONG YOU. I DO NOT WANT SMOKE BOMBS AT MY FUNERAL, PLEASE.
They laughed me off.
So all I’m saying is, if you have tickets for John Hiatt or Vince Gill, they'd make perfect Mother's Day gifts WHILE I'M ALIVE.
On the other hand, if I get There before you do, and you attend whatever gaudy hot-mess of a funeral my kid and best friend have planned for me, I do love blue smoke bombs. Just wait until after the service is over to light them off.
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