My mom’s health is doing fine but she’s already started planning her funeral. That may sound morbid, strange or even sad, but bear with me, and I think you’ll see that she’s really a very wise woman.
She envisions her funeral as a celebration of her life—her favorite things, her dreams, her experiences, her wishes for others.
Here’s the plan she’s come up with so far:
1) Color theme: lavender. Guests will be asked to wear her favorite color and put on some lavender fragrance too.
2) Music: Her favorite hymns and pop, folk and country western songs.
3) Decor: Her favorite things will be displayed throughout the room: books she’s read, pictures of people who have influenced her, objects that have special significance to her.
4) Cards: Mourners might not have had the opportunity to bid farewell to my mom, so there will be cards that they can write on and place inside the coffin. My mom feels troubled whenever family and close friends live with regret for not having had some parting words with the deceased. Allowing mourners to write a goodbye card will give them closure on my mom’s passing.
5) Quiz: There will be a fun quiz to see if guests really knew my mom as well as they thought they did. What were her dreams and fears? What made her laugh and cry?
My mom believes that life is all about preparation. We prepare for exams and for our careers, to buy a car and to have kids, to go on vacation and to retire. Shouldn’t we also prepare for death, especially given that it’s truly inevitable? Death isn’t something we should be obsessed about or preoccupied with, but I believe that a heightened awareness of death leads to a heightened awareness of life.
I was more struck, however, by the fact that my mom wants her funeral to be a joyous event. Funerals are almost always occasions of mourning, eulogization and commemoration—not of rejoicing. But if death is viewed as the culmination of a life well lived, that’s surely reason to celebrate.
All this interesting but slightly depressing talk got me thinking about this semester, my final one at Duke. Graduation is fast approaching, and there’s a sense of finality that accompanies all of my senior year experiences.
It’s easy to get caught up mourning the end of your Duke career. College is where you make friends, discover your passions, revel in your new-found independence and have tons of fun. Entering the “real world” after graduation can seem scary and perhaps boring, so receiving your Duke degree signals the end of your carefree days.
A more common approach is to eulogize senior year. “I can’t believe this is the last home Duke basketball game I might ever attend,” “It’s so sad that I might never see him or her again” and “It’s crazy that I never need to bookbag again” are some thoughts that will definitely cross my mind over the course of this semester. Eulogization focuses on the past, the “good old days,” which are now gone forever.
It might be tempting, instead, to commemorate senior year, to recall fondly the wonderful experiences you’ve had without entertaining the thought that life after college only goes downhill. This is a healthier mindset to have than the previous two, because commemoration is an expression of gratitude for the amazing journey you’ve been on at Duke. Yet commemoration is always accompanied by a tinge of reluctance to let go of the past—hence it prevents you from completely embracing the present.
I believe the best approach is the one my mom has adopted toward death. Just as a funeral ought to be a celebration of life, senior year ought to be a celebration of your four years at Duke. At the heart of it, celebration is about living fully in the present. It’s about seeing the Duke experience as a vital part of your life but not allowing its mesmerizing beauty to stun you into stagnation.
As writer G. K. Chesterton said, “The fatal metaphor of progress, which means leaving things behind us, has utterly obscured the real idea of growth, which means leaving things inside us.” When we celebrate, we focus on how we’ve changed and grown instead of what we’re leaving behind. In many ways, it’s the only philosophy that allows us to be cognizant of life’s abundance, regardless of our circumstances.
Mourning, eulogizing and commemorating the Duke experience are enticing options, and I’ve done my fair share of each of them. But whether you’re a freshman or a senior, let’s start celebrating today. Our time at Duke is too short to do it any other way.
Daniel Wong is a Pratt senior. His column runs every other Wednesday.
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