Who's asking: Anna Bragdon, China, ME
This was the morbid topic of conversation at Anna's birthday dinner last night, inspired by the terrible occasion of Representative Abigail Holman's funeral on Thursday. These conversations are fun in college, when no one actually believes they're going to die; they get more serious in mid-life, when suddenly people we know are dying of natural causes and accidents that could happen to us.
I used to joke that I'd spent more time planning my dream funeral than I ever spent planning my dream wedding, since the funeral is a ceremony I'm guaranteed to have. The older I get, though, the less I think about it. My main concern now is that no one have to spend too much money on it.
What I'd like people to say about me, when I'm gone, is that I was a pleasure to know, usually interesting and sometimes funny. It would be nice if my survivors could gloss over my perpetual difficulties with time and money management, my lack of basic driving and housekeeping skills, and my questionable taste in men. I have no control over this, however, and can only trust in their mercy.
Anna said that her last words about me would be: "She only ever had one cat at a time." I like that. It says, "weird -- but not that weird." And that's about as much as I'd aspire to.
What do you want people to say about you, when the time comes?