It’s been a week of extraordinary eulogies. Between the funeral services for Aretha Franklin and Sen. John McCain, I’ve logged quite a few hours watching tributes.
What struck me with both memorials was the intimacy. After hearing the solemn and celebratory homages, I felt as though I knew Franklin and McCain so well that they could have stopped by my house for dinner or at least an afternoon adult beverage. Such is the beauty of well-written and spoken praise.
When the daily newspaper arrives, some people do crosswords, I read obituaries. Every. Single. One.
While I don’t know most of the people who have, in the words of poet John Gillespie McGee, Jr., crossed the surly bonds of earth, I connect in a surreal way. She loved time spent with her family, especially making quilts for each of the grandchildren. He never missed a football game with his children. She helped the homeless with her advocacy and fundraising. He retired as a military officer. She enjoyed spending time with her book club.
As I read each love letter to those who have passed, I think, yes, a life well lived. Followed by, what would I want to be said about me?
Once, I participated in a writer’s workshop that asked this exact question. What would your eulogy be? I thought the workshop would primarily be writing about our childhood and favorite puppy, so I recalibrated to pause on this jarring question. To get the writing flow going, a few eager beavers volunteered to share their responses. It was nothing short of an emotional purge. Hardly any of the writers could read their first sentence without crying.
Want to get to the core of what your life should be while you’re still living? Write your eulogy.
This experience was so moving that I decided everyone should write their memorial tribute while living. Do this while you are fresh and young and hungry for the next chapter — assuming there will be a next chapter. To understate, it is a humbling exercise to write what you want to be known for. Here is what I discovered in the process.
Everyone loves a story. The hero’s journey never gets old. Flawed, scared, wounded, you’ve lived it, so tell it. The more real you are, the more connected you will be. Tell the story that you thought didn’t matter. Tell the story you wish you would have known when you were able. Tell the story that just might have saved you from unintended consequences. When you tried to reach a goal only to have fallen. That’s the hero’s journey, after all.
For the record, I loved the small, seemingly inconsequential stories of John McCain. The passing conversations in the hallway, the encouragement he shared to fellow colleagues. His story of intently standing six inches from George W. Bush’s face before a presidential debate commanding him, in one simple word, to “Relax!”
Everyone loves connection. Whether we want to hear this or not, we are more connected than we are different. We are loved. We have succeeded. We have failed.
Everyone will have an obituary. Hard though it may be, this is the universal truth of life. We will live and we will die. What will we do when we are here on this precious earth?
Write that.
Still, I think we have it backwards. Eulogies should be given while we are still alive. While I doubt this will become a trend, maybe the best thing to do is live the life you want to be written about.
After all, isn’t that the best tribute of all?
