Memorium - Maureen

When I last visited my daughter in Minnesota, she planned a day for us to go out to lunch. After ordering for us at her favorite Indian restaurant, she pointedly got out her note-making equipment - a graph-paper tablet and favorite pen and began.  

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In a most cheerful voice she said: We are here today to plan your memorial service. 

I asked what had inspired this. She said since her father and I had called her recently about doing Advanced Directives, she thought she should get the service planned, as well.

I said, “Suppose I don’t want a Memorial Service”. She said, “You don’t have a choice. A memorial service is for those left behind and if my sister and I and the rest of the family want a memorial service, I, at least, would like it to be something you'd like.”

Fair enough, I thought.

“So,” I said, “what’s on your list?”

“Well, I know you want to be cremated,” she said, “Where do you want your ashes scattered?”

“Oh,” I said,” Christmas Lake, I suppose,” the place in Minnesota where I had lived for 30 years.

“Any place else?”

“What do you mean?”  I asked.

“Well, you can split them up and have them in several places.”

I hadn’t thought of that.

“Wouldn’t you like some in San Francisco?” she asked.

“Okay,” I said… “Maybe off the Golden Gate Bridge.”  Now I was getting  interested.

“And some in Philadelphia where I was born and maybe in Ocean City where I went every year as a child”, I added.

I began to wonder if there would be enough to go around. She assured me there would.

“Next,” she said, “what about the service?”

“Well,” I said, “I guess I’d like some favorite readings and only a couple of pictures. You know how I hate to have my picture taken.” 

No artifacts that I could think of. She said she’d take care of that.

Then, continuing on her pad: She asked about music.

She said growing up she only remember the Bee Gees and ABBA being played around the house. She wanted to know if my music tastes had changed over the years and perhaps included something more appropriate to the occasion. I mentioned that I had moved on to Dave Matthews, Coldplay and The Dixie Chicks. Peter, Paul and Mary and Paul Simon had always been favorites.

She said she thought she could cobble something together since my music interests were obviously not going to be critical to the occasion.

“What else is on the list?” I now asked, becoming more intrigued.

“How about food?” she said. 

“Oh, “I said, “how about a basket of those little Milky Ways – the ones they give out at Halloween. They have always been my favorite.”

All right she said they could be dessert, but what about the meal?

She’s the cooker, so I said, “How about your delicious meatloaf?”(Every time she visits, she makes 4 or 5 meat loaves to freeze). 

“Okay,” she said, “and mashed or scalloped potatoes?”

 “Or maybe a pasta dish”, I suggested. I was getting into this.

When she started on the vegetables, I said: “You choose the sides, depending on what’s in season.”

Okay. That was accomplished.

“So, “I said, “what else?”

“I think that’s all,” she replied.

But, I asked, “what about the eulogy…what will you say? 

You know the part where the children get up and say things like: my mother meant everything to me; I would not be the person I am today without her; Or without her guidance and love I could never have succeeded; or she was the kindest and most loving parent and I learned everything I needed to know about life from her”.

We were both laughing and then she got quiet and said: “No, I guess I’d just say you were brave.”

“Brave?” I repeated. 

“Yes,” she said.

“In what way?” I asked

“Oh,” she said, “you know - you’re not afraid to travel alone to New York and Paris and places.”

“Yes,” I said, “that’s true, but anything else?  Brave about anything else?”

“No,” she said. “That’s it. Just brave.”

So, Brave I will be, right ‘til the end.