A friend asked me the other day what would I like said at my funeral? Given his state of fragile health, I think it was a rhetorical question addressed to himself.

But still my initial thoughts went to humour. Like Spike Milligan’s epitaph “I told them I was ill”. Then to saying something profound. Like John Keats's forlorn epitaph “Here lies One Whose Name was writ in Water.”

Some people nowadays have a pre-funeral. That’s where family and friends gather to celebrate a person’s life before that person has died. To tell stories, and laugh, and maybe cry together.

I can see the merit of looking into the eyes of someone who means a lot to you and saying, ‘thank you’. As for hearing accolades about yourself, well…

But then pre-funerals, and funerals, are not for the one who is dying. They are for the living – the family and friends. They are for grieving, celebrating, and sharing by presence and memories the valuable connections and bonds between them.

Funerals are also for individuals to take from the memories shared a gift or two to replicate in their own lives. So that the goodness they’ve known in the deceased’s life lives on.

The question my friend asked the other day also led me to musing, to taking a bird’s eye view of my life, and remembering some of the highs and lows of that. Then to feelings of gratitude. I’ve been blessed by a good life.

And then my musings led me into what is called these days ‘legacy’. Namely, what do we leave behind when we have, in the words of Shakespeare, ‘passed from this mortal coil’?

While it is easy, and understandable, to scoff at the narcissistic tendencies of some of the rich and powerful to erect buildings and other edifices with their names emblazoned, there are many others who – if they can – try to influence the future for good by leaving monies to churches, charities, scholarships, and the like. Indeed many churches and charities rely on such benevolence.

The less tangible legacy that many of us try for is simply ‘sowing the good’. By loving. By kindness. By little acts of caring. By modelling mutuality and respect in how we relate to others. By listening not just with the ears but the heart. By giving what we can, and then some.

Sometimes ‘sowing the good’ means joining with others to campaign and work for a local, national, or international ‘good’. Like protecting the environment and species that depend on it. Like alleviating poverty and addressing its causes. Like taking on oppressive regimes and trying to help their citizenry.

Dying at 25, John Keats feared he would be quickly forgotten. His epitaph reflects this, namely that his life and work were fleeting, as pointless as writing on water. He needn’t have feared.

But though Keats sought some permanence, and his words have endured so far, the bigger truth is that impermanence is hardwired into the universe. Things change. Always. Memories will fade. The stories of our lives will be lucky to last four generations. It will be like our names were writ in water.

Faith is about embracing this truth. Not being anxious. Practicing gratitude and the gentle arts of encouragement. Faith is not about hoping for an after-life but living fully this life. In the words of a friend who recently died, faith is ‘being where you are, while you are there, or else you are nowhere.’ Faith is about living to sow good, now.

What would I like said at my funeral? Well, I’m going to duck that question. Or put more positively, I trust that task to those I love, who will find their own words, in their own way, in their own time.  

Glynn

(Image: Noah Silliman on Unsplash)