Most eulogies are so touching that they are usually also tear inducing, so much so that they can turn a funeral into a weepy ceremony.
I had read "Tuesdays with Morrie" by Mitch Albom and I quote the following :
When a colleague at Brandeis died suddenly of a heart attack, Morrie went to his funeral. He came home depressed.
"What a waste," he said. "All those people saying all those wonderful things, and Irv never got to hear any of it."
Morrie had a better idea. He made some calls. He chose a date. And on a cold Sunday afternoon, he was joined in his home by a small group of friends and family for a "living funeral." Each of them spoke and paid tribute to my old professor. Some cried. Some laughed. One woman read a poem:
"My dear and loving cousin ...
Your ageless heart
as you move through time, layer on layer,
tender sequoia ..."
Morrie cried and laughed with them. And all the heartfelt things we never get to say to those we love, Morrie said that day. His "living funeral" was a rousing success.
Only Morrie wasn't dead yet. In fact, the most unusual part of his life was about to unfold.
Morrie Schwartz had amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), Lou Gehrig's disease, a brutal, unforgiving illness of the neurological system. He was one tough guy who did not wallow in self-pity but stood up to his illness. He made no secret of his illness and even lived his life as normal as he could.When my time comes, I don't think I want any eulogy unless it can be kept short and delivered in such a lively manner that it does not bring forth the tears. On the other hand, come to think of it, I have not done anything worth mentioning, neither have I achieved anything, which is just as well.
I'd rather go quietly, so don't "rain" on my parade.
