Planning for the Ending after the End

My uncle has been laid to rest, in a two-day combination of memorial service, visitation, and graveside service, with a BBQ meal after.  My mom and her siblings helped my aunt plan the services and write the obituary, all of which was made more difficult by the fact that none of it had been discussed beforehand with my uncle, and that my aunt and uncle didn't belong to a faith community or identify with any particular cultural traditions.   So everything had to be designed from scratch, from service to venue to officiant; I'm sure it was exhausting.  But I understand that they helped each other, made the tough choices, and created a lovely celebration of my uncle's life.

As my mom has long said, funerals are for the survivors.  But I do think it helps ease the mind of the main mourners if the service reflects or even has input from the deceased.  My folks are not interested in church or religious funerals for themselves, obviously.  In fact, my dad says his obituary can read "1940- [date]," which doesn't really make for a great remembrance, so unless he leaves us one, we'll have to write it.  My mom, as she frequently explains, is interested in the dash between the dates, so I can see some kind of celebration with lots of photographs and an obituary with lots of detail (not just dates, places, and survivors.)  Both talk about being sprinkled somewhere (over the duck pond at Wildwood for my dad), so gravesites and stones aren't in the cards.  My mom has never believed in leaving flowers in cemeteries anyway; she always buys herself a poinsettia for Christmas and lily for Easter instead of leaving them at her parents' graves.

I've already tried my hand at my own obituary; it definitely needs to be amended and shortened.  I'd love to write an ethical will  to leave behind, beyond just my distribution of belongings.   And I've thought before, often when I'm waiting for a funeral to begin or I'm leaving a wake, about what I want by way of comemoration.  I like UU funerals--some music, some readings ("Wild Geese" by Wendell Barry, or Mary Oliver's precious life poem), an Order of Service with a picture and a favorite quote or poem, a short eulogy, the invitation for attendees to share a story.  I remember music playing as people gathered for my paternal grandmother's funeral, gentle Christmas tunes as she died in December about a week before Christmas.  I'd love to have a selection of music playing as people gathered--things I like (musicals, Indigo Girls, Wham!, who knows)--and maybe accompanying a slideshow (like in Love Actually.)  Maybe give people a CD of the music (or the contemporary music tech.)  And pass outsome of my books that my family aren't keeping, with a special bookplate.  Or a copy of my favorite recipes.  Yes, I like the idea of funeral favors, not just little prayer cards.  There should be food.  Lots of food and drink, perhaps in the church social hall, though I go back and forth from a real dinner to just a dessert bar.  I would love it if people hung out and really talked, not just nibbled and left.  I do like the Jewish tradition of sitting shiva, a casual and informal gathering in support of the family, with food, conversation, a few readings.   I go back and forth about what do do with my body--I love old cemeteries and headstones but also feel that they are a waste of land and resources (all that fertilizer and water!) that few visit anymore; still, I might like being buried under a bench with a quote as a headstone so people could sit comfortably and enjoy the view--let it be pretty.  The idea of cremation gives me the heebiejeebies because of the fire, but I don't mind being ashes.  And then there are all these new ideas--being buried as a tree, being "bio-cremated" with alkali not fire, etc.  I don't mind being sprinkled anywhere (not sure where exactly?) or being in a pretty cannister (something Wedgewood-esque would be perfect.)  And leave my Facebook page and blog up as a memorial.

So I guess I have given it all some thought, which I think is a good thing.  Have you?

Hydrangeas in Memoriam

I think I got the idea about planting memorial hydrangeas in honor of Aunt Sis while sitting in a drive-thru waiting for our food to be brought out to the curb.  I even hopped out and took a picture of the glorious pink and lavender blooms right outside my driver-side window.

Later, I snapped a picture of a town bench, with the idyllic white picket fence and hydrangeas.  Funny, I imagine I can see the sea through the slats--why do we associate hydrangeas with the seaside?  They're all over many coastal towns in New England.

In fact, once I started looking at hydrangeas, they were everywhere.  They're mostly blue here in CT, because our acidic soil creates blue blossoms, though some hard-working gardeners must add alkaline treatments to their soil to get the pink or purple ones.  It's the blue ones I think of when I think of the sea.

And that's when I knew I wanted to plant some hydrangeas for Aunt Sis.  Not that she had hydrangeas--I can't really remember seeing them in Texas at all--but she liked colors and blossoms and had some plants in her own yard, though nothing as formal as a garden.  And she loved the ocean.  We also took her to Mystic, proverbial New England on the water, and so I even think of her up here by the sea.

And so, Mama picked up two hydrangeas, the last of the nursery's stock, on Tuesday, which was Aunt Sis's birthday, and today we planted them, in morning sun and afternoon shade, as suggested, along our rock wall and visible from my kitchen window.  

They look a little forlorn and exhausted now, but I have high hopes for beautiful blossoms next year, in time for her birthday.