Meet ‘the kids’
In moments of clarity, my mom has conveyed explicit instructions about how she wants to be buried when the time comes. No matter that they change depending on how much she recalls on any given day or which relative she is offended by. For instance, her brother recently got nixed from the list of invitees on account of a real or perceived conflict from years ago.
Since she wants everything just so, she even custom-ordered a 24 x 36 inches picture of herself to be displayed at the funeral. On good days she asks whether I’d come visit at the family plot once she is gone. On difficult days, she is vociferous that she never wants to see me again.
Such are the vagaries of dementia.
My father on the other hand widely fluctuates between having a big funeral with the entire family in attendance and donating his body for science particularly when he is feeling peevish.
You might ask why they don’t state their wishes in writing and save me the trouble. In my country of origin, tradition dictates that the eldest son, or in my case, daughter, is tasked with fulfilling the parents’ wishes according to both cultural customs and religious ceremonies.
Otherwise, people are bound to talk. It is not just that I will never hear the end of it but the fact that I have a deeply ingrained sense of duty that compels me to listen and fulfill their requests.
So no outsourcing of responsibilities even though I must admit that it is appealing.
We haven’t yet discussed what goes on in their epitaph probably because that is less important than the actual event. However, I hope to find out if they have any preferences rather than me or someone else choosing it for them.
That is not a conversation I am looking forward to having because ‘the kids’ as I call my 81 and 86-year-old parents can be quite rambunctious and I don’t mean that in a good way.
Celebrating my newfound self
You might think this morbid but recently a dear friend and I had a light-hearted conversation about what we’d like to put on our epitaphs.
Coming from the same patriarchal culture and having gone through unhappy marriages and subsequent divorces, we each underwent a journey of self-discovery.
This conversation served as a celebration of our newfound selves, embodying strength and authenticity forged through our trials by fire, rather than dwelling on anything somber.
Perhaps it is on account that I come from a broken and dysfunctional family that my dream was to have a big, happy family of my own. I would have gladly gone for the simple yet poignant —Beloved Daughter, Sister, Wife, Mother & Friend, But given my current reality, those words would have to be cut abruptly short.
My friend on the other hand got me thinking about what she said she wants to be remembered not in conventional terms but as a fun-loving and good human being.
I am at a place where I get to live life on my terms and pursue things I am passionate about. With that in mind, it makes sense to go with the iconic “I did it my way.”
But that doesn’t sound quite right.
Over the years, my life has undergone a major change resulting in my embracing a minimalistic-ish lifestyle and appreciating the value of a decluttered mental and physical space.
There was a time when I thought bigger was better — as in a big house, fancy car, and designer labels. And while I was fortunate enough to have all of that, it lacked two crucial ingredients for a happy life: mental peace and contentment. The kind that comes from experiencing life’s little pleasures — be it savoring a cup of tea while listening to birdsong on a spring morning, giving my time to tutor immigrants hoping to make a new life, or delighting at a playful kitten doing the orange swirl — without fear and having to walk on eggshells all the time.
In other words, it is not the big highlights that do it for me anymore but the little things that make up my day.
Yes, my life experiences, both the good moments and the many challenges have molded my character and influenced my priorities. So it is only right that I aspire to be remembered simply like this “She found immense joy in life’s tiny treasures.”
🎈This post first appeared on Medium. If you enjoyed this read, come say hi on Medium where I write about love relationships and writing.
You captured the essence of how my views of life have changed throughout the years. What we sometimes think is important is not.
“Yes, my life experiences, both the good moments and the many challenges have molded my character and influenced my priorities.” - Yana
I used to think that job titles or any title that was worth pursuing was important but realized all of that doesn't matter. Returning and living in the countryside helped me clarify what is important in life.
Take care and be well, Yana.
Life boils down to the tiniest things. A good thing to explore. All those huge houses, fancy cars, and designer labels become insignificant when you’ve found your light. I am happy to read that you’ve scaled a mountain so you can see clearly now, as the song says.