Ode to My Funeral (inspired by a true story)
When I die, will you dance at my funeral?

Would you have loved me enough to wear your favorite tutu
twirl your very best twirls
and point your toes?

When I die, will you dance at my funeral?
Even when all others will concentrate on suppressing a smirk
Will you proudly resemble a pink jelly bean
up on the stage?

When I die, will you sing at my funeral?
Will you clasp your hands before you
warble your strongest warble
and attempt your best opera?

If you love me, you will dance your best dance
and warble your best warble
and embarrass yourself as much as possible
And hopefully accomplish my goal-
to crack everybody up.

At your expense.

Now THAT would be an awesome funeral.
(Dedicated to the most pious and godly Deb Marth.Amen.)



So I ran across this poem yesterday on a blogging friends site and I couldn't think of a more fitting tribute to my girlfriends.



Friends who have become more important to my heart than any I ever thought possible; my life would not be as rich and as full and as purposeful without them.



At this point in my life, what was once a constant is now only a distant memory and our new "normal" is nothing like I ever thought it would be. Sometimes, often, I long for the day when we were all SAHM's who lived close and met often. Back then, I couldn't wait for the babies to grow and leave us so we could finally have uninterrupted conversation. But when that happened...suddenly we were called on the leave as well; to take up other projects. There was a time when I took our time together for granted, believed that a Wednesday morning would always hold the reverence and awe and strict observance it did...but Wednesday mornings have become just another ordinary morning... I hate people who live in the "glory days." But today: guilty as charged.



This past summer, one of my sister-friends lost her grandma. Attending her funeral together caused us to think about our own mortality...and in true sister friend fashion, that got us laughing and then what followed was totally irreverent.


We pictured the five of us a pall bearers...I've written and rewritten what comes next, the description of all of us...one would be bossing everyone around, another complaining that the casket was too heavy, one of us would be late and have totally missed the funeral, one would be so loud that someone would probably call the cops for a noise disturbance, one would be so busy preaching to anyone who might listen that she'd wonder why in the world she had to do the work of carrying the casket...and of course, we pictured ourselves old and gray.

During the time I've been working on this post, there was a mom from a near by highschool who passed away at the age of 42. I thought twice about posting this, hoping you wouldn't see this as tacky and uncaring. However, I think this post is even more important in the wake of this recent tragedy....we need each other. In life and in death, in happy times and sad, when were SAHMs and when we are called to other jobs.

We need our girlfriends. Without them, who would keep us sane? Who would make us laugh, who would we cry with, who would understand us the way only a girlfriend can?