Blindsided

Have you ever wondered who would come to your funeral?  I have. Not that I’m morbid, but being an introvert and a wallflower makes me think I’ll have an equally quiet final farewell.  Here’s my mental image of the scene:

The church as been contacted—probably by my husband– about holding a funeral service for me. After a quick discussion it is decided a small room will do.  Not exactly a broom closet, but not much bigger either.  A dozen chairs are designated to hold the “crowd” that will be attending.

On the day of the service my casket sits in the front of the room.  A lovely spray of flowers covers an inconspicuous cement block which holds down the lid.  As a joke, my husband has used duct tape to seal the coffin as well.  Nobody wants me falling out at this late date.

Because one of my favorite songs is Aerosmith’s Dream On, my son starts playing his version on the trumpet, my son-in-law joins in on the drums, and my daughter gets her freak on with a rogue rift on the accordion. After fifteen or twenty minutes the audience flicks their Bics and a moment of reflection ensues.

After the musical tribute, the six people gathered stare at the minister who begins his attempt at eulogizing my life.  “Genny was, um, an unusual woman.” (A few people murmur and my son coughs out, “Gail!” behind a closed fist.)  “What?  Who?  Oh, I meant Gail.  Anyway, over the years I had the pleasure of knowing her quite well and always admired her love of heights.  Yes, heights and sushi.  She couldn’t get enough of either.  Genny, er, Gail, was the kind of woman who could talk your ear off if you let her, but I’m sure all of us gathered here will agree her most memorable attribute was her singing.  She had the ability to make people cry with that voice of hers, and I know you know what I mean.  Let’s pray God is tone deaf.  Amen.”

There is a quick exit for the hotdish luncheon served by the Ladies Aide group assigned to funerals and AA meetings in that month, and my funeral concludes.

(For those of you new to my world, welcome to my brain process.  Initiation ceremonies are held every third leap year for those willing to visit regularly.)

This past weekend my husband conspired with my children and threw me a lovely surprise party.  I was completely blindsided and torn between killing them and breaking their spines with enormous loving hugs.

Given my funeral imaginings, I was shocked to find so many people willing to give up a Saturday afternoon, or in a number of cases, an entire weekend to honor me.  What the heck?  How can I be worth it?  But somehow, someway, the fine, fine, people in attendance thought I was.  Even now I get a bit teary when I realize the scope of time and effort put into place on my behalf.

As an introvert, having so many factions of my life gathered in one place was breathtaking and scary.  Fortunately, in my social brain freeze, I didn’t break out into song.  If I had, my aforementioned funeral probably would have been sooner rather than later.  People can only take so much.  Hotdish anyone?