MYSTERIOUS EVENTS IN LIFE AND DEATH

by Deborah Elliott-Upton

This past week, three people in my family passed away: My father-in-law, who was perhaps one of the sweetest, most non-judgmental men I’ve known, my mother’s aunt (the last living relative older than Mom in her family tree), and my father’s uncle, who lived to be 99 and might be the oldest relative on that side of the family. Funerals bring up all sorts of mysterious questions as well as the odd assortment of people who come into your life suddenly, like the brand-new-to-the-company mortician taking over the family business and the stately woman in the turban who claimed to have already met me but didn’t want to remind me of her name at the funeral home.

Everyone dies. Or so they tell me. I wonder if there isn’t a true Dorian Gray out there somewhere or if the Twilight lovers are onto something and an everlasting life on earth comes with a price most of us wouldn’t want to pay. Or would we? In Pet Semetery, Stephen King posed the question, to what lengths would we try to bring someone back from the dead? That’s a question theologians have pondered for centuries. We’re told our loved ones have moved onto a greater place than this life. Still, until we are among them, it remains a mystery to consider.

If nothing else, I have decided I need to put in writing exactly what I wish to happen if and when I do die. It’s beyond picking out a final resting place, choice of dress or casket. I’m planning on cremation and want to be set free in the wind. No need for a burial plot or dress and I’m told you can rent a casket for a ceremony if that makes someone happy to have something solid near a podium. I’m not trying to put morticians out of business, but for me, this will work best. As far as I’m concerned, stack my books on the coffin and give them out as mementos. I don’t look on this as being my last appearance, just an opening act for the Big Time.

Of course I want people to miss me a little, but more than that, I’d love them to share funny stories of things we’d done when I was still here. I want laughter and a happy song to be on everyone’s mind as they leave the funeral. A bawdy writer-friend of mine who passed away a few years ago asked that the congregation sing a song together at the end of her service. She chose the Roy Rogers/Dale Evans rendition of “Happy Trails.” I am sure that song and the follow-the-bouncing-ball on the screen was a first in her small Southern Baptist church. We left with smiles amid tears. I can’t hear that song without thinking of Connee McAnear, who wrote some of the most outlandish romance novels that were more erotic than romantic.

Perhaps the Irish have the best idea and we should plan a wake. Only I hate to miss a party, so I’d want to be there not just in spirit. Maybe we’ll have that party sooner rather than later. We’ll celebrate the life, and not the death, which is how I would want things to happen following my demise.

If I sound a bit morbid, it may just be that I am saddened, but even as this bleak weather day matches my mood, I know spring will soon be here. The fresh growth of buds, leaves, and the new grandbaby due this April prove there is rebirth following a death and our family tree is being replenished.

Every experience brings new mysteries to question . . . and new ideas to explore. On the way home, I couldn’t help thinking about the turbaned woman and what a delicious character she could foster. Somewhere I will use the setting of the mausoleum or the cemetery and the feelings we shared at my father-in-law’s funeral on a dismal, dreary day where a silver coffin was covered with long-stemmed roses and his fireman’s helmet nestled on top as if waiting for him to grab it and put it on, and head out to save someone’s life and home as he had so many times in the past.

Perhaps all the mysteries of life will be answered someday. I hope so. I’d really like to know the answers to all the “Why’s”.

I am content to wait a while longer. There’s so much more to do here yet. Books to read. Stories to write. And friends to cherish while we can. We are blessed with today, strengthened by our yesterdays and renewed with hope for our tomorrows.