At Your Service
The underrated uplift of a good memorial
It was not until this morning (thank you Teresa) that I realized this post on memorials is coinciding with the upcoming Memorial Day weekend. Call it fate or dumb luck—either way I’m taking the win.
One Momism and Dadism my parents did not pass along to me was their disregard for memorials. I don’t know if their aim was to let us kids off the hook or to justify their refusal to attend them. Whatever the case, memorials were not their jam. I can understand feeling this way later in life, when your friends are dropping like flies; but even when Buck and Nina were younger they did not feel overly compelled to go to memorials.
It was long after I left home that I realized I did not share their sentiment (or lack thereof). In many ways I look forward to memorials. I see them as an opportunity to be moved by someone’s life, to fully appreciate their particular dent in the universe, to affirm that they mattered. As described in Last Writes, I feel similarly about reading obituaries, making that one last show of respect to learn a bit about someone.
More selfishly, and as intended, memorials make me feel better about someone’s passing. It is a gift to be able to gather and think of someone with their people. I used to think memorials were necessarily sad and weepy affairs. There’s some of that for sure, especially when the person is young and the death was tragic; but no matter the circumstance it’s also a place to share stories and a permission slip to pair those memories with laughter, together.
‘TIS THE SEASON
Memorial Day also kicks off peak wedding season. As a parent and aunt of kids and their friends in the prime courtship window, I have the privilege of getting to go to a few of those this year. Going to weddings at my age is a dream. Of course you still stress about what to wear, but you do so with the knowledge that nobody is looking at you; and if you do miss the mark terribly on attire you’re making someone else feel better about themselves. It’s kind of a public service.
This liberation allows you to take it in without all the anxiety of being in your 20s and 30s, wondering about your own future, if there is a wedding in it, who will be involved and how you will pull it off. It gives you more time to focus on what matters.
What does matter? It’s not the flowers or the food or the seating arrangement or the band. It’s the vibe. All those other details are nice, but when it comes down to it, a good wedding reflects the couple. Be it black tie glam at the country club or sandwiches in a community center; high on a mountain in ski boots or in a field under a tent; super churchy or no bible in sight— a good wedding is one where the happiness of the bride and groom is contagious.
Just as a good wedding reflects a couples personality and values, a good memorial assures a person’s life gets passed along authentically, usually in stories, favorite quotes, signature quips and quirks. You leave a good wedding feeling great. You leave a good memorial feeling…better. And better is enough.
THE PRO VERSION
Back when I wrote about obituaries in Last Writes, a friend sent me a book called “Even At The Grave”. It was written by Lisa Saunders, an Episcopal priest for over thirty years. She called officiating at funerals “the most compelling work of her career” and wove her own life into this book of snippets from her sermons for the departed.
Each one was a far cry from the worst case scenarios we’ve all likely experienced: the officiant who mispronounces the person’s name or gets it entirely wrong; the speaker who serves up an entirely a rote recital of accomplishments that sounds more like a resumé than a remembrance; or the ceremony that is all weight/ no lightness, or entirely devoid of humor.
Seeing the thought and care she put into each sermon reminded that the whole point of both a wedding and a memorial is to honor the fullness of a couple or a person. This means learning something more about them, even after they have gone. That scope requires having a smattering of people from every aspect of their lives, which gets back to showing up. You can’t hit them all, but whenever you can be there it’s always worth the effort.
A good memorial fully captures the person. I remember looking out over the crowd at my Dad’s memorial and thinking, “Buck would have loved this.” I could even see him sitting in one of the rows and having a margarita afterwards, chatting up a storm. Nina’s memorial, outside on a perfect summer day, was totally chill and peaceful, just like her. For people who hated memorials I think they both would have loved theirs.
Oh and one more truth about weddings and memorials in case you’re part of one. Nobody but nobody wants to sit through a long speech. If it’s going to be long it’d better be darned funny. And with that Happy Memorial Day weekend to you all!