My funeral
I am part of a Clothing Club. For those of you who aren't familiar with these, how it works is a group of women get together every month and throw in a certain amount of money. Over the course of a year, each member wins the pot once, and the winner is required to go and spend the money on herself. Not on hubby, the kids, the house, the bills - only on herself. Get your nails done, buy some slacks and shirts and shoes, go for a manicure and a massage, get a new haircut and a handbag, grab 14 pairs of panties and a custom fitted bra... you get the idea.
Anyhow. The winner is then required to host the next party and show off her purchases. I've heard tell that not all clothing clubs require there to be a theme, and that some of them are set up in such a fashion that it's more like a coffee meeting than a gathering. If I wanted a half hour coffee date, I'd make one. I want an event! I despise shopping for clothes and get my hair cut once a year, and am always struggling what to spend my winnings on. I'm as opposite of girly as you can get without being butch. Without a doubt, it's the whole social aspect of this particular Clothing Club that drew me in, and our Clothing Club goes all out for our parties. The list includes a Geisha party where we all got gussied up in Japanese garb, hair styles, and make-up and learned how to hand roll sushi, a formal dinner party, a wild and fun game called Convivium... and coming up next is a Roller Derby!!!
Last year, I did a retro glam photo shoot.
This year, my theme? A funeral. I really wanted to hear all those nice things people will say about me at my funeral.
OK, OK - so it sounds morbid. There was a method to the madness, though. Honestly, we spend half our time walking around like the living dead, holding regrets and grudges, devaluing or failing to acknowledge our own importance in our own and other people's lives, and not appreciating the opportunities that exist each and every day when we have the ability to choose what we are going to say or do, where we are going to go, who we will spend our time with.
We always hear about how a person's life flashes before their eyes at the moment of death. A flood of memories and regrets streaks across the screen like a high-speed film, highlighting the good and bad parts of our lives. At that point, we have no time to act OR react. No more chances to apologize or forgive, no more time to spend with the family and friends we leave behind, no more choices on what we are going to say or do, where we are going to go, who we will spend our time with.
So I took pre-planning to the next level, and made a point to be present for it. I have a rather eccentric friend who loaned me a casket he'd bought at an auction when his bid for a big Altendorf saw fell through. They'd foreclosed on some funeral planning place in southern Alberta, and were auctioning off the goods - headstones, wreaths, coffins, etc. - and he bid on it as a lark, and won, and has been storing this casket in his shop for the past several years. He was kind enough to let me borrow it. (We were planning to drive it through the hand car wash place to have the van detailed while we were dropping off the casket, but ran out of time....)
Initially when the casket came in the house, it was very eery, and my 12 year old found it especially disturbing. "I want it out of the house. How much longer is it here?" My youngest brother-in-law and my 9 year old son wanted to sleep in it, and my almost-3 year old drove it like it was a convertible Cadillac with pastel blue satin interior... If nothing else, it was certainly a much nicer 'first memory' of a coffin for my children than most of us have to experience, which according to a brief poll I conducted (myself included) is usually a beloved grandparent.
Please be reassured that it was never my intent to make a farce of death and dying or funerals. Honestly, I think it was an eye-opening experience for the guests, with plenty of fodder for instrospection and self-exploration. And it really was so great to hear all those nice things people had to say about me, I made everyone say nice things about each other, too. Now YOU go tell someone something nice. Spread some love today, OK?
Anyhow. The winner is then required to host the next party and show off her purchases. I've heard tell that not all clothing clubs require there to be a theme, and that some of them are set up in such a fashion that it's more like a coffee meeting than a gathering. If I wanted a half hour coffee date, I'd make one. I want an event! I despise shopping for clothes and get my hair cut once a year, and am always struggling what to spend my winnings on. I'm as opposite of girly as you can get without being butch. Without a doubt, it's the whole social aspect of this particular Clothing Club that drew me in, and our Clothing Club goes all out for our parties. The list includes a Geisha party where we all got gussied up in Japanese garb, hair styles, and make-up and learned how to hand roll sushi, a formal dinner party, a wild and fun game called Convivium... and coming up next is a Roller Derby!!!
Last year, I did a retro glam photo shoot.
This year, my theme? A funeral. I really wanted to hear all those nice things people will say about me at my funeral.
OK, OK - so it sounds morbid. There was a method to the madness, though. Honestly, we spend half our time walking around like the living dead, holding regrets and grudges, devaluing or failing to acknowledge our own importance in our own and other people's lives, and not appreciating the opportunities that exist each and every day when we have the ability to choose what we are going to say or do, where we are going to go, who we will spend our time with.
We always hear about how a person's life flashes before their eyes at the moment of death. A flood of memories and regrets streaks across the screen like a high-speed film, highlighting the good and bad parts of our lives. At that point, we have no time to act OR react. No more chances to apologize or forgive, no more time to spend with the family and friends we leave behind, no more choices on what we are going to say or do, where we are going to go, who we will spend our time with.
So I took pre-planning to the next level, and made a point to be present for it. I have a rather eccentric friend who loaned me a casket he'd bought at an auction when his bid for a big Altendorf saw fell through. They'd foreclosed on some funeral planning place in southern Alberta, and were auctioning off the goods - headstones, wreaths, coffins, etc. - and he bid on it as a lark, and won, and has been storing this casket in his shop for the past several years. He was kind enough to let me borrow it. (We were planning to drive it through the hand car wash place to have the van detailed while we were dropping off the casket, but ran out of time....)
Initially when the casket came in the house, it was very eery, and my 12 year old found it especially disturbing. "I want it out of the house. How much longer is it here?" My youngest brother-in-law and my 9 year old son wanted to sleep in it, and my almost-3 year old drove it like it was a convertible Cadillac with pastel blue satin interior... If nothing else, it was certainly a much nicer 'first memory' of a coffin for my children than most of us have to experience, which according to a brief poll I conducted (myself included) is usually a beloved grandparent.
I find it odd, in retrospect, how much differently we all reacted to the coffin. My 9 year old thought it was cool, my oldest son afraid, then intrigued. As the picture below shows, my brother-in-law saw something glamourous about it, while my husband (that's him in the background eating a bowl of cereal) was completely indifferent. I personally found it creepy but humourous. And the Clothing Club ladies all received it differently, too.
Because the box has different significance for all of us. A coffin comes with a very long list of sentimental attachments, in what it represents to each of us based on our own very unique, very individual experiences. Who, if anyone, have we loved and seen in a casket? Are we going through a prolonged death experience right now because a loved one has a terminal disease? Have we watched too many horror movies? Each of us will see a casket, but no two of us will ever experience its presence the same way, empty or not.
A coffin itself is just a box. They can be very basic and boring, or very ornate. Some people spend terrific amounts of money decking out their coffins, test driving them for comfort and fit, and even outfitting them with amenities. Short of resurrection, it is, after all, where they will spend an eternity. There are even companies specializing in casket furniture, that you use while living then take with you later! Although most people were hesitant to get too near the casket at the beginning of the party, by mid-way through they were serving up munchies (like devilled eggs and Death by Chocolate) from the closed lid, and at the end, people were climbing in to get a once-in-a-lifetime photo-op. It went from a respresentation of death, to a piece of furniture, to a prop, in the span of just a few hours. Tasteless jokes abounded. My favourite, (thank you Christina) was that I had put the 'fun' in 'funeral.' lol
Please be reassured that it was never my intent to make a farce of death and dying or funerals. Honestly, I think it was an eye-opening experience for the guests, with plenty of fodder for instrospection and self-exploration. And it really was so great to hear all those nice things people had to say about me, I made everyone say nice things about each other, too. Now YOU go tell someone something nice. Spread some love today, OK?
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