Who's going to your funeral?
No matter how we go, and no matter how much disinterest we profess on the subject, most of us would be flattered to have lots of people come to our funerals. That's true even though at that point we probably won't know who or how many and won't be in a position to carry grudges against those who don't show up. It's the anticipation that counts.
Of course, it might be embarrassing to our kids and spouse if no one showed. But then maybe they wouldn't be surprised because they knew all along how much of a dislikable old crank you were--if indeed you were.
The trouble is the older we get, the smaller our personal communities become. After we leave the work force, we lose contact with many of the people we once knew very well. Some of our friends, relatives and associates die, some become too ill or handicapped to attend funerals and some move to retirement communities like Sun City West or to live with their children hundreds of miles away.. Yes, we may outlive many of our friends, as well as our money.
Besides, not everyone reads the obits--for good reasons--and in a big city it's easy to slip away without a lot of people knowing it.
So, unless we're famous, at least locally, or have built huge families and maintain close contacts with civic, fraternal, church and senior citizen groups, we SeventySomethings are not likely to attract huge crowds to our funeral. Our chances are probably better if we live in a small town, where people know each other better and feel more conscientious about such things. And they improve dramatically if you're a New Orleans musician and friends decide to conduct a jazz funeral for you. Then hundreds, maybe even thousands, may dance in the streets for you.
If you're wondering about your own funeral, you can probably look around at the family, friends and associations you still maintain and get a pretty good estimate of the numbers who might attend. Throw in a few people you don't even know who will show up out of courtesy to your family. That's nice. But excuse a few who will just not be able to get away for the service.
If you don't like the look of the numbers, you can send out early, standing invitations.
Then, of course, if your leaving appears imminent, you can do like Morrie Schwartz, the courageous little professor who died after a long bout with Lou Gehrig's disease. He invited people to a pre-departure service so that he could enjoy the parting, the final meeting with friends or, as it's getting popular to call funerals, the "celebration of your life." Wouldn't it be nice to actually hear all those nice words that folks usually save for after you go? Morrie did.
Mitch Albom describes this unique goodbye in "Tuesdays with Morrie," a book about his series of meetings, after a 20-year separation, with his dying SeventySomething professor. It's an excellent book. And the audio tapes, narrated by Albom, are just as moving.
We need to understand that it isn't necessarily personal if a lot of people don't show up for our funerals. It's simply the demographics of the situation and, as marketers will tell you, demographics dictate most everything these days.
Luckily, it isn't like a wedding where you have to estimate the attendance, give or take ten percent. The funeral home can probably handle any reasonable size crowd.
And, of course, we won't experience the disappointment if the crowd doesn't meet our earlier expectations.
Copyright 2004-05 by Carroll P. Trosclair
