A Prehumous Funeral

A Prehumous Funeral

Morrie Schwartz, the name might ring a bell for a few, but for most it’s just someone they’ve never heard of. Morrie Schwartz was a retired sociology professor who had terminal cancer; his story was unfolded in Mitch Albom’s book “Tuesdays with Morrie“. Morrie loved life, but because he knew his days were coming to an end he chose to have a “living funeral”; which was a gathering he invited his family, friends and loved ones to say their last goodbyes, their prayers, poems, praises and eulogies. Days later, he died in his bed in peace after leaving his legacy to the world.

That was Morrie’s story, now comes mine, and I guess it’s everyone’s too.

Sometimes I have my high days, sometimes it’s my lows. Sometimes I feel so old from the outside and young from the inside other times it’s vice versa. Sometimes I feel I’ve lived enough lives in a lifetime while other times I feel I haven’t lived a day. Of course I don’t know when I’m going to die, but I know a few things about my death. I know that when I die I want to have lived my life to the max, when I die I don’t want to have a deathbed wish; I want to have all my wishes fulfilled when I was still alive. Most of all, I want to leave a legacy, I want to have mattered, I want to leave my mark and I fear most walking through this life unnoticed. I want to die in peace and live in satisfaction.

So here’s why I mentioned the living funeral idea earlier, I liked the idea! It doesn’t have be prior to an expected death, I decided I want to do it on daily basis; whomever mattered to me I’ll tell him/her, whomever left a touch in my life or who I am today I’ll let him/her know. And I expect -or hope – people to do the same to me, it really serves us well. I would be happy if I knew that I matter for others, that I really made a difference and I’m on a right track. This sense of satisfaction and this positive energy can keep us going.

I thought to myself, how many times I have heard the words “I wish I told him/her…” after it’s already too late. Why do we always value things or people after they are already gone? I didn’t find an answer, but maybe I found the solution.

And if in many years I read this again, I hope that I haven’t wasted more time. 

 

P.S: This is not a suicide note

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