Funerals Should Be Joyous

Not for my goodbye half-hearted expressions of grief, nor mumbled condolences faintly felt. For somber attire topped by somber faces, I have no need. I came into this world bearing meager gifts, but if our paths have crossed and I have ever given you reason, intentionally or otherwise, to laugh, to be glad, to feel something worth feeling, if I have managed to give you one moment during this brief sojourn of mine, and yours, when you thought to yourself, “Right now, I’m glad to be alive,” then I’d much rather you be joyous. Clap your hands, if you would be so kind, join in a small ruckus of valediction, however undeserved, when they wheel away my casket, and let it reverberate with your affirmation that you’re glad, in the final reckoning, that I have once been here. Celebrate, with your kind applause, not the things I have said or done, but the fact that we have briefly been joined in a doomed quest for meaning and happiness, and bravely pursued our defiant love of life in the face of loveless time.