Mary wanted a home funeral and that’s what she got. She had written her own elegy and shared it with her sister Joan, who read it aloud. We wanted to share it here.

An elegy for myself. 

How will my boys remember me? I think about this.This is all a part of the duality that I live--able to hold both the striving for longevity and the belief that I will be here in the future, as well as the possibility that this disease in my body might necessitate an early check out. And so, I give myself permission to think these thoughts, ones like “What will my end of life look like?” and  “Where will we put the hospital bed?” and  “How will my house accommodate a home funeral?” and yes, thoughts like “What will folks say about me at my Celebration of Life? What is the essence of me that will linger in my boys?”  which is an interesting thought for anyone to ponder really - how will I be remembered? Or even “will i be remembered?”, which is a scary fucking thought. We accept without inspection the idea that “As long as we are remembered, we are alive.” It is a trope so ingrained that it shows up in Pixar films and the premise is a given. So what does it mean if we are not remembered? Is that the ultimate death, like we have somehow skirted death so long as there is a picture of us hanging on a wall somewhere? 

But back to the question “How will I be remembered?” I am the one in the family that organizes such things as Celebrations of Life. I organize the party, I give the toasts that make people cry. So what will the toasts be when I am not there to clink the glass to pull attention to the front of the room?  Maybe I can seed the soil by writing a few ideas and gently and subtly inserting them into casual conversation with my kids now.  I think it’s called priming, yes? So here are some of the things I want my boys to notice about me:

I talk to everyone. I love people and I love their stories and I love to build bridges that connect people to me and to each other. I ask the cashier if they are in school. I ask the waiter what their favorite dish is. I comment on the mail carriers shoes. I laugh with people. I smile at people. I make friends with the customer service rep on the phone. I say their names and ask how the weather is where they are. Do you think my boys notice this? I know this annoys them now but I hope they will remember it fondly when I am gone. I want them to be curious about the people around them, to relish in our shared humanity. 

I feel deeply. I cry at movies. I cry at other people’s stories. Seeing a little girl ride her bike with her sparkly pink boots and a dirty tee-shirt makes me clutch my heart and well up with tears. Do you think they notice this, my full body, full soul engagement with the world around us, my reveling at the sheer beauty of it all? 

I play. I value play. I would even go so far as to say play is my life's organizing principle. While others pursue prestige, or money, or success, or stability, or calm, I pursue play. Big play, like running rivers and months long adventures, and the day-to-day small play that gives a floaty feeling to regular moments. I laugh readily, I find humor in everything. Do you think they see that, notice that? Do you think they have integrated play into their life and will think “This reminds me of my mother.”? 

Community is central to my life, to our lives. Do you see that boys? Do you notice? Do you see the richness that is ours because of the community that we cultivate? Do you see the energy we put into building it, how we show up for others from a deep place in our souls. It’s the most important thing, this investment in community. It is the best inheritance I can give you. Do you notice? Do you see? Will you remember?