Who'll Be My Pall Bearers ?

You'll forgive the title of my first foray into the "blogging profession", and its morbidity, but you will see how it bears out, as this was a long train of thought which occurred to me after the night I experienced a choking episode in my sleep.

The next morning I awoke (always a good sign) and set about working in the yard as I pondered on what had happened and how serious it actually was. I'm thinking that I may have died a little at one point because my whole body seriously ached.

I'm not talking about a little soreness like the kind you get after 20 minutes on the elliptical. This was more like, if I had gone to the gym and my trainer was one of those sadistic young female coaches who knows that you don't want to fail in front of a woman but her hatred towards 50 year old men, not to mention other daddy issues, pushes you to the point of thinking, "Surely I'm going to die!", and then frightfully realizing, "No, I'm going to live!". Yes, this feeling was more like rigor mortise had set in and I had to kick out of it's sticky web as I frantically sat up, choking and gasping myself to consciousness.

I do believe the autopsy report would find, asphyxiation, choked by my own vomit, as the primary cause of death, from a rogue belch I unconsciously allowed and had not kept in check. After all, I was asleep! My apologies to those of you eating right now.

So, as the train of thought continued, naturally I came to the part (and we've all done it, don't lie) where I imagined my funeral. I think I remember reading somewhere, "If you want to live a good life, start from your eulogy and work backwards", or something to that effect. I think the clinical definition is "illusions of grandeur".

Now for a little insight. My first full time job was working at a large mortuary chain in California. I started as a junior in high school, part time and evenings and then went full time after graduation. My, not yet wife, I met as she toiled away in the office, across town in Hollywood, at the crematory. Contrary to corporate lore, her job was not to stare at the pre-cremated remains until they burst into flames. That, dear readers, is a skill only developed after almost 30 years of living with me. I worked for this company for 5 years, helping families arrange services for their loved ones, so I believe I am sufficient with the experience one would need in order to imagine a proper service.

In all those years there was only one service, I recall, where the widow had to hire pall bearers to carry her husbands casket because their situation was that they either didn't know or didn't have any friends.

We think and plan for so many events in our lives so that those who are closest to us are a part. Our parents consider who will be our godparents. We think, Who will stand with us at our confirmation? Who will be part of the quinceniera, bar mitzvah? And, of course, we cannot over look, Who will be my best man/maid of honor? All very critical, life long choices, based on friendships.

In the event of our death we have, hopefully, left matters as such that our family would not have much to worry over and maybe even be able to leave a little financial security for them to move forward with. My wife and I have discussed with our children, and in no uncertain terms, our wishes after we have, "fallen off the twig".

James Dean is credited for the quote, "Live fast, die young, you leave a good looking corpse", however, I don't think he took into account his convertible flipping over and his head turning into a #2 pencil eraser. If I had not so desperately and unconsciously desired to breathe, this too would have been my sudden and untimely demise, but I would have left a good looking corpse!

So, to that end, I am able to imagine a formal memorial service with open casket. Again, it has been my experience that surviving members have an easier time with grieving when the body is presented in such a manner as opposed to simply having pictures and a memorial service.
My apologies to scrapbook makers, event planners and previous memorial services I've attended.

With all that said, I asked myself, "Who will be my pall bearers" ? I hope to resolve this before the time is called for, thereby avoiding some of the more comical, almost Three Stooges type scenarios I have witnessed, occurring at my own funeral. These six individuals, male and female, will have had a significant part in my life and I would be both humbled and honored to have them symbolically escort me once more.

Ask yourself, who your pall bearers might be, it could be fun. It could be insightful. It could also be that maybe you'll need a lot more friends.