My fish are still alive despite who owns them, so naturally I’ve begun thinking about my own funeral. We wouldn’t want things to get too cheerful.
My Patient Husband and I sometimes talk about what we’d want for final services, and we both seem to have the opinion that we don’t really care. Cremate me? Sure. Casket? Sure, but make it cheap. Lunch after? Sure, if people want it. Etc etc etc.
But I finally came up with something I actually want, and it’s a bit unusual.
“At my funeral,” I told my mom, “I want people to wear things I’ve knitted for them.”
My mother said, “You’d better die in the winter. I’m looking at wool socks and fingerless gloves and a wool hat — actually, I’ve got two hats, so do I have to wear them both?”
“Only one thing,” I said. “And yeah, I’d better die in the winter.”
And at the wake, I want people to show the things to each other. I want them to feel their warm wool and know there is warmth in the world and that someone wants them to be pretty and comfortable.
It’s going to be bright with rainbows and festive with lace and warm with cables, and that’s a good thing. And if you find that mis-crossed cable I didn’t rip back to correct, please feel free to have a good laugh at my expense.