Think you can’t find a gift in death? Think again.
This week, with a heavy heart, I took a trip to Milwaukee to attend the funeral of my best friend’s grandmother, a 94-year-old woman named “Flossie.” At the visitation service, there were nearly 70 people in attendance—pretty incredible when you consider that a large portion of Flossie’s friends, relatives, and loves-in-life have already passed. Scattered throughout the funeral home were boards peppered with pictures from Flossie’s life, dating back to her childhood years in the 1920’s. While each picture was different, they all shared a similar theme: Flossie FULLY enjoyed life. And I mean FULLY. From the pictures, it was evident that she understood:
The importance of celebrating birthdays with family
Toasting with a good cocktail at Christmas
Belly laughing with good friends
The value of sisterhood
The photos also showed that Flossie:
Knew in her bones what it meant to have a sense of pride in oneself
Never missed a chance to just be silly
Was a kind being
Believed in the power of a warm and welcoming smile
Greeted each and every era and decade of her life with a zest and a zeal that was uniquely her own
All in all, it was a touching, intimate, and moving celebration of her life, and I was grateful to be witness to it.
On the hour and a half drive home, I thought a lot about Flossie and my experience that day. While most funerals I attend often leave me feeling like a heavy chain is pulling downward on my heart, this one did just the opposite: it lifted me up. And, boy oh boy, the timing couldn’t be better. My life over the last six weeks has been nothing short of transitional chaos. I’m in the midst of packing as we prepare to move to a new house, I’m knee-deep in the rebranding my business, and I’m fast and furiously planning for long-term care for my mom in my home, not to mention mothering my delightful child, receiving house guests several week-ends in a row, and leaving town for five days in the midst of it all to visit an old, dear friend out in Boston. And, because life is so fast-paced and tornado-like these days, I’ve found myself starting to feel sorry for myself, wishing it would all just “go away so I can rest,” and allowing the overwhelm to creep in and attempt to undo me.
And then I visit Flossie in her casket.
And you know what? She gave me a gift that day—from the casket. She reminded me that, despite all of the zaniness of life, all of the day-in-day-out details and stresses we endure, and all of the swirling change that we go through, we need to remember that, at the end of the day, all that really matters is that you:
ENJOY THE RIDE.
Live FULLY.
Embrace LOVINGLY.
Take HEART.
Because, at the end of our lives, that’s all that really matters.
Thank you, Flossie. For the perspective. For the gift. For everything.
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