There are very few funerals that go down in the history books as an unforgettable day.
One of those heart breaking days would be the day the world buried the Princess of Wales and the very next week Mother Theresa, her friend.
Never was a nation glued to their tv screens to mourn in union with people so far away as on that day.
Tomorrow I bury my great aunt. My grandmother’s youngest and only surviving sibling. As you might imagine my grandmother is devastated. She feels like she’s alone now at the age of 83. I think that’s amazing too. My grandmother is more my mother than my grandmother really and I’m so happy she’s still around although this passing shoved me into the reality that she will not be around forever. This kind of cold water in my face scares me. I’m scared of the unknown.
It has me thinking about how we live. This hole in the ground or the furnace. What ever way you choose for your remains to be disposed of. When the people are gone and the formalities are done.
What will they say about you? What will your legacy be?
Was I fearless?
Did I live my life for others?
Was I an inspiration to others?
Did I love someone to the best of my ability without expecting anything in return?
I know that when I die I want to be rememebered for my good and I want it to outweigh my bad. I would want the eulogy to be something epic. To read like the amazing love story that is my marriage. To inspire the women and men I call my friends to not be sad but to know I that I came, I saw and I conquered.
When this journey is through what will the gatherers at the funeral be thinking about you?