My mother says I’ve always had a penchant for event planning. No sooner had the last guest departed my four year old puppet show birthday party that I turned to her and said, “Next year, I’d like a snow white theme”. I would spend the year planning decorations, the cake, party favors, locations, and of course, my couture. Together, my mother and I could dream up something different each year to keep my friends guessing….a Polaroid scavenger hunt, a sugar cookie baking party with monogrammed aprons for each guest, a valley girl party replete with the game “Gag me with a Spoon” where we dropped spoons from chest level into a bucket with big lips painted on it. Soon, birthday parties gave way to THE event of all my previous seasons…MY wedding.
The Angler flinches when I refer to this as “my” wedding. However, I don’t recall him losing any sleep over the 3000 blooms, the lemon leaf garlands, the pink and white striped tent, the 5 inch wide double face satin ribbon that I finally tracked down in Canada or the the months spent locating the perfect dress without a single bead or embellishment – which was nearly unheard of in the late 90’s. I loved MY wedding. I loved the research. I loved my organized notebooks that finally were dwindled down to the perfect outline of The guest list. The food. The flowers. The music. As we rode away that day as Mr. and Mrs in our horse drawn carriage (of course!) my heart fluttered with glee …with just a hint of sadness. That small ping that said, “This was it”. The only other time I would ever have The food. The flowers. The music and everyone I ever loved in the same room would be ……..my funeral.
This might seem a wee bit morbid, but if you’re from the South you know that a fascination with death is just part of our breeding. From the time we are born we know the recipes our mommas tote for additions to the family and which recipes are used for subtractions. We frame pictures of family members long since parted and usually the only story we know about them is some gruesome detail that led to their ultimate demise. For example, I have a picture of my great Aunt Mable framed in my guest room. I never knew her. She was pretty. I hear she was extremely talented – a writer, a painter, a seamstress and a bulimic. She died at the age of 30. They say the good die young.
Which might explain why – at the age of 23 – I sat watching Princess Diana’s funeral procession and thinking to myself, “Those Easter lilies are gorgeous. Make a note of that. ( just in case)” Or when pics were published of Jackie O’s graveside I noted, “the greenery and lilies of the valley that formed a cross. So elegant. so simple. So peaceful. and so going on ‘the list’.”
“Final” Lists are not anything unusual for my people. My grandmother kept a notebook in the top drawer of her dining room buffet for years where she would write and scratch out what she wanted to wear for burial. Pink ruffled dress. Scratch. Brocade Suit. When I was younger and my parents would travel off to distant places, Mother would always stoop as she said goodbye and whisper in my ear the current location of all the info I’d need to know if they shouldn’t return. To be honest, I never once looked at her list. Thank goodness, I haven’t had to yet.
Today, I’m carrying on this crazy family tradition. On my coffee table is a beautiful antiqued box The Angler and I lovingly refer to as my “death box” It contains notes and letters of my dear ones that have gone before me…and the “Final List” which I update from time to time outlining the who’s, what’s, whens of my funeral…when I shall…well…pass. (There is also a copy on my iPhone)
Now I know as a believer, I’ll be too busy dancing and decorating my mansion in glory to really care about earthly blooms and such. But – while I’m having the time of my everlasting life – I do believe the ones left behind should have a glimpse of eternity too.
As styles change – so does the list, but some things always remain: The flowers – must be white. Aromatic. Smell like heaven. Virginia Roses, casablanca lilies, peonies, lilies of the valley, white hydrangeas, french tulips – But please NO gladiolus – those just scream death. The music – A list of classic and contemporary hymns. Be prepared to sing Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus – and you better stand as is the rightful tradition when it is played. If a choreographed gospel choir can be arranged with a New Orleans Jazz band to play “When the Saints” I’d like that too. And I want party favors. When I go marching into glory – I want everyone to walk away from a celebration of life with a string of pearls and song in their heart.
Now here are the two sticking points that gets my family when I go talking about my funeral…and probably what compels me to write this the most. (YOU are my witnesses)
1. If I’m ever on life support – Don’t take me off until I’m at least back to a size 4. Now, a size 2 would be optimal. I’ve never been a size 2. But a size 4 ensures my favorite dresses will fit for this funeral fete.
2. I only approve an open casket if its open on the FOOT end. If I should die in fall/ winter – I want my Black suede Prada ruffled heels and my toes painted with OPI “Oh to be 25 Again”. If I depart while the spring & summer is coming to life, I want to wear my nude patent Jimmy Choos with “Sweet Memories” painted on my piggies. I just LOVE how OPI polish has names for all occaisions.
Lord willin, I still have a long time to add more to the “final” list, but if the valet arrives early with my chariot to glory…know most of the details are covered. They are fabulous…and this is one funeral you won’t want to miss.
(all photos taken with my trusty little iPhone at the historical Mount Holly Cemetary in Little Rock. If you haven’t toured this treasure in the heart of our city, April 25th is your chance when The Mount Holly Cemetary Association will host it’s annual picnic – “Restore in Perpetuity”. The event will be from 5-7pm, cemetary tours, boxed suppers, live musical entertainment, a silent auction {I find the “live” and “silent” a wee bit funny for the setting} and a chance to sip a Mount Holly Spritzer a refreshing concoction of wine, lemonade, and mint. Tickets are $75 and provides funds necessary for upkeep to this grand landmark. Call 375-5197 to purchase. )
