Last Monday, I went to a funeral. This was for my neighbour, she was in her early fifties and one of the most positive, upbeat women you’d ever meet. She’d been diagnosed with cancer a few months earlier. Now the funeral had come, and she had one major request before passing away: everyone had to wear white at the funeral. So I put on my best white shirt, combined with dark grey trousers and matching necktie, with a dark blue (almost black) suit jacket.
I read the card inviting us to the funeral, slightly surprised at the address. Turns out they’ve recently built a place on the outskirts of our little town, for the purposes of cremations and funeral services. It’s by a road my granddad often used to take, driving me from school back to his place. Around two o’clock in the afternoon, we arrived. Upon parking the car, I looked around. A couple of trees here and there, mainly grassy fields. Peace and quiet. A bit further back, there stood a concrete dome shaped building – austere, but modern.
Then the funeral service started. They projected pictures and videos, combined with music she liked. Imagine that, trying to tell a whole life’s story, with a handful of images. Not an easy thing to do. They showed her smiling next to friends, striking funny poses near statues – many pictures were taken on holiday trips, and holding hands with her wife. They also chose to showcase her love for football, her affection for her dog, and her passion for music. It was beautiful. But by dying at such a young age, it felt a bit like reading a novel, only to close it halfway through. There was still a lot that could’ve happened. That’s life.
See, we all like to pretend that we have all the time in the world. We like to go through our lives, pretending to be immortal. You know what I mean, right? We’re kidding ourselves and we know it. Time is a finite resource, constantly ticking away. One way of making the best use of that resource, is to make better choices. A thought came to mind, while watching that memorial tribute. What if we try to optimise our life choices, so they’re worthy of being included in one of those presentations?
Because if there’s one thing I noticed watching those type of presentations: they only include the stuff that really matters. There’s no talk of real estate, fancy cars, job titles, how often you got wasted during the weekends, none of that nonsense. It’s all about friends, family, loved ones and whatever you liked doing best during your lifetime. So let’s make that a priority.
I know, easier said than done. Life is complicated and you’re never quite sure you’re spending your time right. Take me, for instance. I’ve been trying to get a master’s degree, while also working my current day job. One year ago, I aimed for the stars, but I soon realised I had bitten off more than I could chew. Simply put, trying to do the standard five-year program was overly ambitious. If I wanted to make this work, I’d have to stretch the program to ten years.
Still, that’s ten years of constant study, having to sacrifice everything in the process. I envisioned what future me would look like: worn-out and weary eyed, only with a piece of paper to show for it in the end. No thanks, I decided. Not worth it. So I changed my field of study. Next year I’ll go for something more doable, which actually fits my interests better.
Life isn’t easy. You’re constantly trying to figure out if you’re on the right path, trying to live a life well lived. Going back to the funeral briefly, by the time the memorial tribute had come to it’s end, they asked to lay our hand on the urn containing her ashes, giving us a moment to send our last wishes. Now, I’m not a spiritual person, so I don’t believe it truly matters what I wished for, but placing my hand on that urn, I simply thought, “You lived a good life.” And I guess that’s the best any of us can ever hope for. Food for thought.
Kind regards
Vincent J. Dancet