Today I had the odd, yet enlightening experience of attending a Funeral Expo while here in England. The family I currently nanny for are involved in the funeral industry, and had been exhibiting their business over the weekend. And like any normal Funeral Trade show, Sunday happened to be ‘bring your children to work/funeral expo day’. So rather than visiting a farm or the local park, we instead spent our morning choosing which coffin we wanted and the hearse in which we would be driven.
Upon arrival I spent the first fifteen minutes or so taking in my surroundings. I felt like a spy, gathering confidential intel on the secret world of embalming and celebrant footwear. The men and woman mingled throughout exhibits in a relaxed manner, conversing with their fellow funeral friends. I couldn’t help but stare, amazed by a whole new network of people, that otherwise, would never have crossed my mind.
In my life I have been fortunate enough to attend only a few funerals. My grandma being the only close relative to pass, who, bless her soul, left no instruction for my personal input or contribution to the funeral. Which perhaps, may have been due to my lacking maturity and inability to organise, so, I guess Gran was pretty on to it! Yet now, a few years down the track, after seeing what the funeral world has to offer, I am oddly prepared the worst.
The beauty of facing such an awkward and emotional topic, such a death, is when taboo and fear is replaced by fun and celebration. I am not excusing the necessary emotional outpour that occurs when a loved one is lost, but instead reinstating and exposing the joy that can be found in that process. I mean, who knew you could get a musical urn!!!
Its only natural, as I ponder on this topic, that I find myself scheming up my own farewell, in hope of creating an atmosphere that leaves my loved ones with a ‘what the heck Emma?!’ look on their faces. I want to first of all, state my most important and vital part of the show that is my funeral, the alpaca. This animal will chill on stage while family and friends try to steal the attention of the audience, in hope of out staging the alpaca eating the foliage off my casket. He will be star!
I also want to make it very clear those who can and cant attend. Someone once told me its not for me, but instead those I leave behind. That, regardless of feelings and petty arguments anyone should be able to attend as part of the grieving process.
And yet my response remains the same… Meh!
Its all about me and my glorious friends and family who have had a POSITIVE impact on my life. Megan Fox, you are most welcome.
On another note, if Jesus and I are chilling before I cruise down the isle in a big white puff, the band Six60 will need to play as I have promised at least thirty people a performance at my wedding reception. I also give full consent to freeze my body longer than usual should they be booked or on tour. As I learned recently, the embalming industry has come quite far these past ten years, its amazing what a little stuffing can do!
Lastly, and coming in a close second of importance with my alpaca, my outfit. It’s crazy the time and effort people put into their wedding dresses which will be worn for only one day, when the clothes we get buried in are with us forever!
They say what you wear says alot about your personality. If thats the case, then I clearly have multiple personality disorder. Some days I wear sweats, others Karen Walker, and sometimes, dare I say it, I have left the house in the clothes I slept in. Sometimes I spend $3 for a bag of clothing, other times I spend $300 on one item. There is no in-between, which is why choosing my ‘forever outfit’ has proven so difficult.
Therefore, my only solution is this. I want to be buried naked. Obviously youll have to get creative when it comes to the whole open casket ordeal, but I somewhat trust my friends and family to think outside of the box – pun not intented but so epic!
I mean, to get all natural and earthy about it, we come into this world with no knickers on, why leave wearing them?
And on that note, before I lead down the road of dirty jokes to be told at the luncheon, or shots to be taken at the grave, I will finish it here.