My wife and I attend more wakes and funerals than the average person. I’m not sure if it’s because we know more people or if it’s because we minister to an extremely vulnerable population. Maybe it’s a mixture of both.
But whatever the reason is, we find ourselves attending a good amount of wakes each year. As a matter of fact, we’re headed to a wake this weekend – a wake of a young man that unfortunately lost his life kayaking with a friend on the East End.
With attending a lot of wakes naturally comes hearing a lot of eulogies. I personally love words, whether they’re being spoken or written, so the eulogy always keeps my attention. I enjoy hearing different people’s perspectives coming from all different walks of life. It’s always interesting to hear their perspective on a person once they’re no longer present – how the person impacted their heart and life, and the fond memories that they left behind.
I’ve heard eulogies that were completely heart-wrenching; others respectful, yet brutally honest, and then everything else in between. I’ve heard eulogies kept relatively short because it truthfully seemed as if the speakers didn’t have anything of substance to say. One time I heard a young lady say, “I saw my dad’s taillights in the early morning and headlights in the evening. He spent his life at work. I wish we had more time together.”
An annual Christmas tradition that I love to keep is listening to the audiobook of “A Christmas Carol” by Charles Dickens, a book that has certainly stood the test of time and has literally impacted the way we’ve celebrated Christmas. At one point in the book, the wicked, cruel, and oppressive old miser, Ebenezer Scrooge, has the great opportunity of hearing what people will say about him once he’s deceased. Among those statements are, “He’s now the richest man in the cemetery.” According to the book, wealth that Scrooge gained by overcharging, underpaying, charging already-struggling people heavy interest, and hoarding it all for himself. Scrooge has personally been an example in my own life of exactly what I don’t want to be.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, my own community experienced two sudden, tragic and major losses this past year, two special people that spent their time coaching, volunteering, giving back and going the extra mile for others and going the extra mile with no expectations of retribution. They invested their time in ways that not only benefit themselves, but benefit everyone that they have come in contact with. Many have called them individuals that changed the trajectory of young people’s lives and futures. I personally thank you for that, Darryl Sumpter and Adrian Gillmore.
As you can imagine, the eulogies given at their wakes and funerals reached into every heart present. Stories surfaced about the many times they so generously helped and gave of themselves to one individual child, teenager or neighbor that was in a crisis. No one sitting there was surprised at the stories that surfaced though, because they had their personal story to tell about their coach.
With being confronted by life’s end so often, I’ve come to realize that we are each simply writing our own eulogy, day by day and line by line. Some time, unknown to us, people will stand up and tell others about you and me, how we treated them, made them feel, and the impact we may have had on their life – maybe even a lack thereof. The beautiful hidden stories of friendship, compassion and generosity will surface, if there are any to tell.
What have you been writing down for people to say?
