The Last Goodbye

I attended a funeral this weekend. I spent Friday night and Saturday morning trying on different outfits and variations of outfits … that were both weather and occasion appropriate.  It’s not that I don’t own appropriate clothes, but the person whose funeral I was going to, dressed for the occasion, made an effort to always look nice - and did - those things mattered to her and dressing appropriately felt like a mark of respect.  

When my cousin began the eulogy, he commented on how her last five years had coloured his relationship and his memories … how he was grateful to the people he reached out to for help shaping his perspective … this got me thinking … how easy it is to forget, how someone living with or suffering from dementia can become someone we don’t know, don’t recognize.  

I don’t know if you see the worst parts of who a person is or if the disease itself influences their personality.  Given some of the behaviours listed as common in various stages of the disease (e.g., paranoia) I suspect it’s a little of both.  I appreciate that the angry words, the lashing out, the fear can be hurtful … feel a little like a kick to the gut … even when, if, you know … this isn’t them … this has nothing to do with me.  Taking it personally, that’s ego, and natural … we’re human … but I appreciate, over time … the compound interest of those actions and words can force the shields up, can colour our perspectives and relationships despite our best efforts. 

I’m not going to lie … that hurts my heart a little.  Not just for the survivors but for the person suffering.  I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.  

The other realization … the eulogy … which is meant to be a reflection of who someone was, how they lived … wow … how do you sum up a life?  

My aunt was 95 … that’s a lot of life … a lot of eras, a lot of change … I came into my parents' life when they were in their mid twenties … through their thirties I saw them through the lens of a child … as a parent .. I never knew them as professionals, leaders, colleagues, team mates, peers … whole parts of their life for a major part of their life I couldn’t possibly perceive … I left home to attend school and begin my life, missing so much of theirs … which is expected, normal and ok … but then how do I summarize or story tell?  

I’m lucky, I have spent the better part of my life surrounded by extended family.  I know more about relatives I have never met than most people know about their living relations.  And yet ... The eulogy is also written when it’s needed … so often with little time to plan and in the midst of grief, deep sadness etc.  

As my aunt would say - and did say - all living things die.  That is the way of life.  But like the wardrobe changes, you want the eulogy to reflect who they were, to give back in some small way what was given to you, to be a mark of respect.  

Luckily I have siblings … not that we experienced our parents the same.  I had them to myself for 16 months … people who were new to parenting … my brother, the youngest and only boy … had older, more experienced versions.  It’s not that he had better parents as much as he had different parents.  

Funerals are a funny thing.  I also think they are necessary.  They provide an outlet for shared grief, they give you permission to remember, to see them through the lens of others, to experience them in ways you didn’t get to in life.  When done well, they are emotionally exhausting because they have run you through all the emotional paces and left you both full and empty at the same time.  They feel very much like the giving back of a soul that you were lucky enough to have known … loved … for whatever time you had … there is a sort of beauty in that.  

Eulogies are important … scary, daunting, anxiety inducing and necessary … not just for the person being remembered … but for the people left behind.  They feel scary to me because you want to do right by the person you’ve lost, the people people left behind … it’s not just about what you’ve written, it’s also about how you deliver it.  

Sometimes I wonder where, how and why funeral customs were ever created … they take people who feel broken, or lost, deeply sad or some combination of these emotions … they bring them together … someone writes and delivers a speech … regardless if writing and/or public speaking are strengths or not … yet somehow, you leave feeling a little better, maybe because the process forces you to grieve … even if just a little, even if just for a moment.  Maybe.  

Regardless, I have always left a funeral feeling like I knew a person more, seeing them a little differently and loving them more than I did.  

I’ll end this week with a quote from Patti Smith, “it’s part of the privilege of being human that we have our moment when we have to say goodbye.”