Connie's Pre-O-Bitch-Uary

My friend, and long-time writing list buddy, Connie Hammond Saunders, has given me permission to share what she calls her O-Bitch-Uary, and it struck such a nerve with me. Our culture simply doesn't talk about death; we pussy foot all around it, making nice euphemisms and trying to make it politically correct to be dead. I do not like thinking about death, but I have been aware and not pussy footing since I finally accepted I wasn't immortal. That was when I was 50 and had my first of two bouts of breast cancer. Of course, I never was immortal, but I always just put death, mine anyway, out of my mind. Connie, who is remission now, for an unusual throat cancer, has been dancing with death for a lot longer than I have--and she does it with forthrightness, anger, and often with humor.

Connie says, "Here is my pre-obituary! Or, as I call it my obitchuary! I hope no one takes
offense.

1. At my funeral, if I have an open casket (which is dubious at best),
please DO NOT say, "She looks good." I don't look good. I look DEAD.

2. Don't say I passed. I am not a kidney stone. I'm dead.

3. Don't say we lost her. I'm not lost. I'm dead. You can't find me unless
you die and maybe not even then.

4. Don't tell my kids I'm in a better place. How do you know? Have you
ever died?

5. Don't tell my family not to be sad. They are sad. I'm dead. They miss
me. They can cry. It's okay.

6. Don't tell my kids they will get over it. They won't. Yes, they will
get on with their lives. But they will still have times of sadness. Grief is
recursive and there will times that they will feel the loss again and again
like when they married or on Mother's Day or their birthdays.

7. Don't say only positive things about me. This 'don't speak ill of the
dead' is a bunch of shit. I'm a human being. Sometimes I was a bitch. Maybe
even a lot of the time. I know I could be condescending, arrogant, impatient,
self-centered, superficial, materialistic, pompous, holier-than-thou, stuck
up, anal-retentive and egotistical. Not to mention stubborn, self-righteous,
and critical.

8. On the other hand, don't say only negative things about me! I was
funny, loyal, loving, generous, kind-hearted, thoughtful, smart, grateful,
tolerant, fair-minded, dedicated, and patriotic. I tried my best to be a good wife,
mother, daughter, family member, friend, teacher, citizen, and Christian. I
recycled and adopted pets from the Humane Society.

9. When you write my obituary please include three pictures of me. One at
three, one at 24, and one at the age of my death. I want people to see how
cute I was as a toddler. How beautiful, thin, and blond I was at 24, and how I
looked as I aged. Every wrinkle, roll of fat, and gray hair was earned by
blessings, challenges, joys, and sorrows. I earned all the scars both physical
and emotional by living life loudly and passionately and overcoming obstacles.

10. I want a huge party after the funeral. With lots of booze. And a
chocolate fountain. And music. Loud, rock and roll. The stuff you can dance to.
Play lots of Warren Zevon. I have a Warren Zevon playlist on my iPod. Favorite
songs of his include "My Shit's Fucked Up" and "Keep Me in Your Heart." Play
some Jon Bon Jovi, too. Especially "It's My Life" and "Have a Nice Day." Tell
funny stories about me. I was always able to laugh at myself. If you were a
student of mine or knew me professionally or knew me as a child or woman, tell
my children stories because they know me as their mom; not as a woman or
a teacher. At the funeral have someone with a beautiful voice song "Ave
Maria." Bagpipes playing "Amazing Grace" would be a nice touch. Celebrate my
life. It was a good one filled with so many blessings.

Connie Hammond Saunders
If you don't disagree with me, how will I know I'm right?
---Samuel Goldwyn