Life Lessons From Memaw
My Memaw died in 1987. I was still in college and, as you can imagine, it was a very traumatic time for me. I did happen to be home when she had her final heart attack and that day will never be forgotten by me.
In graduate school, I had to take a grief counseling class. It was a good class but since the topic was so uncomfortable, I didn’t take it seriously. However, I do remember two exercises we had to do and I still think about them today. First, we had to make a timeline from the moment we can remember to now, with all the losses we had in our life. This could be from death, divorce, leaving a job, selling a house, anything and everything we loss in some way. However, it had to be an event that meant something to us. Donating my clothes, although technically a loss, does not mean anything to me. This exercise was very surprising to discover how many losses we have encountered so far in our lives. It was almost scary!
The second exercise was to write our own obituary. This exercise was supposed to encourage you to look back on your life. Of course, I instead had a little fun with it. When I died, I was 102 and owned the Chicago Bears!! The obituary listed all my accomplishments and my family members. Clearly, I missed the point of the whole assignment!
I thought back on that assignment this week. I attended the funeral of my brother in law who passed unexpectedly. Dennis and my sister had been divorced for many years and I hadn’t seen him in 10+ years, but I remember Dennis very well. His only daughter was my niece who is named after me. I felt it was important to attend the out-of-state funeral to support my niece and my sister, but also to say goodbye to a great man. Even divorce, my sister and Dennis were friendly because that was who he was.
I sat in the back of the funeral home with my sister and my husband and I listened to the officiate talk about Dennis. Then she invited people to stand up and tell their own stories about him. As I was listening to these stories, I felt myself nodding my head. These family and friends talked about his sense of humor, his passion for the outdoors, his commitment to family, and his work ethic. They talked about his wonderful personality traits like kindness, honesty, quietness, and patience. They told story after story to demonstrate these qualities he had. Everyone was laughing and crying through these stories. That, to me, is the best type of funeral.
However, then I had to start reflecting. I think this is what my professor wanted all those years ago–for us to create an obituary that told who we were. No one at the funeral talked about his job accomplishments, his education, how much money he made. They talked about Dennis the person, the family man, the friend. Could people say the same about me? Do I demonstrate those wonderful qualities? Would people have dynamic stories about me, my sense of humor, my patience? Or would it be about my education, my accomplishments?
I think in life we concentrate on the wrong things, because that is what we are told to do. Get the best job for the highest pay. Go to college to get that degree, whether you want to or not. Own the biggest house, raise the perfect, ambitious children, and own that fancy car. Is that what I want talked about at my funeral? Or do I want the laughter-through-tears stories told about me, with some people I haven’t seen in years, sitting there, nodding their heads because they remember?
I have no idea where Dennis lived or what kind of car he drove. I’m not even sure what his job was. But I do know he was loved very much, people looked up to him, and they will miss him every day because they feel that void. Dennis lived a life we all dream about.
Thank you, Dennis, for reminding me what is important. People say you have lived a good life by how often your name is mentioned after death. This is one accomplishment Dennis should be proud of.
