So I went to see my shrink the other day and told him all about my latest run ins with existential thought. In this case my thoughts on what I would think about not having done in the last 20 seconds of my life.
So we talked about what is missing from my life that old mother Army may or may not have provided, and how to possibly replace that now that I am a civilian puke.
However, he flipped the script on the question slightly. Enough to warrant another go around of thinking about being dead. How healthy is it for a guy who once considered suicide to be thinking about his own funeral? Hell if I know, that's why I go to a shrink!
The question goes like this...instead of you're hurtling toward a fiery death in a big tube of bags filled with dirty panties and vibrators (and that's just the guy's bags.) You're dead, and you get to come back for your own funeral and listen to what everyone has to say about you. Now what do you hope to hear?
Oh boy. First of all, what kind of funeral do I want to have?
Funerals are depressing by design. Not much fun at all. And I know one thing is for damn sure I don't want one of those.
I don't really think that a line of bereaved all waiting to say some heartfelt goodbye and then drive the long mile to the cemetery and chuck my ass in the ground would be how I'd want to go out.
That's just completely lacking in any sort of style at all. No personality whatsoever in any of that.
Now, not to say that I want strippers hollering for dollars at my funeral either (but that's got some potential).
I don't think a somber affair is really in the cards for me. I would want my funeral to be a little more upbeat than a...well funeral, but slightly less obnoxious than a night at Scores.
So I've been sitting thinking about this for about an hour, staring at the flashing cursor and slowly driving myself to drink so I decided to switch gears. As opposed to the funeral question I'm going to write my own obituary. Seems like summing up a life in three or four paragraphs is a lot easier than imagining what every chuckle head I've ever known is going to say at my funeral so here goes...
Mud Puppy died yesterday at the age of 86. He fell to his death from the top of a rock wall at the local Xsport, while exhorting the young man of 26 who had lost the race to the top to, "Take off your pretty pink panties and get the fuck....AHHHHHH!"
Mud Puppy is survived by his wife of 51 years, Princess Puppy, and 5 children, 15 grandchildren and 6 great grandchildren.
In life Mud Puppy had many titles, very few of which meant anything to him. He was a soldier, an MP, a team leader, a combat veteran, a college graduate (4 times) and a husband, father, son, brother, friend and all around pain in the ass.
He was known for his jaunts into local politics where he would run by telling the populace the actual truth and watching with bemused indifference as he was demolished in the elections. He was also even elected once to the local school board but was promptly removed when he demanded that teachers take a pay scale that was based on their students future earnings.
He contributed to several charities and ended up building just over 300 homes in his lifetime working to end veteran homelessness. He never could quite get rid of his juvenile sense of humor and as an octogenarian was known for chuckling during somber ceremonies when the word "duty" was used.
He wrote several books in his lifetime, none of which sold more than a few hundred copies except his Magnum Opus "Embrace The Suck" One MP Clusterfucking his Way Through Afghanistan. Which was on the New York Times Bestsellers list for 18 months.
He was opinionated and would readily let anyone know exactly what he thought about any given subject, mostly his philosophy was, stop worrying so much, the universe doesn't even know you're here. Do whatever the hell makes you happy, and stop being such a pussy. A philosophy he ingrained into his students at the College of DuPage where he was a visiting adjunct part time poorly paid shaper of young minds (his title not the university's), his claim to fame being that he was voted "Hottest Professor" by the female student body when he was 79.
Throughout his life he was an avid skydiver, and mountain climber, and he was semi-famous for completing several Spartan Races, Warrior Dashes and Tough Mudders throughout his lifetime. His last race coming on his 84th birthday when he placed in the top 50% of all contestants. After which he said, "I'm eighty-fucking-four, that should count for about a 50% handicap. So I win!" He was also an accomplished hunter and world traveler having visited over 150 countries in his lifetime, and as he was fond of saying, "In only two was I actually there to kill anyone."
Lastly, he was known as a man who never missed a beer, or a party, or a chance in his life, but he also never missed a day of work, or a car payment, or a house payment and his family never went hungry even though he did a few times so they didn't have to. In 86 years he never let up, he never let down, and regardless of what came along and punched him square in the nuts he kept right on trucking, and he skidded headfirst into his coffin proclaiming his last words in a loud and thunderous voice...DAMN THAT WAS FUN!!!
Yeah, that's the guy I want to be.