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I Want Upbeat Music & Funny Stories at My Funeral

by The Stir Bloggers on January 21, 2013 at 8:01 PM

Everyone was standing around the living room, silently eating cake from paper plates. A room crammed full of people that I didn’t know were memorializing a woman I barely knew, the wife of my husband’s co-worker who’d died of cancer. I squeezed onto the crowded leather couch, and watched a continuous loop of photos of the deceased -- with her husband, with her friends, with her kids -- accompanied by maudlin music on a laptop. The pain in the room was palpable, and I wanted to run out the door.

Just a year in remission from an aggressive form of non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, I knew that it could easily have been my own funeral, having come just two months from death myself. And yet it was nothing like what I’d pictured for my final farewell. Although I understood that people grieve in their own ways, that’s not how I wanted to have my life memorialized.

More from The Stir: Man Dies & Wakes Up as a Guest at His Own Funeral

On the way home, I called my brother.

“If I die first, you’re in charge of my funeral,” I told him. “I want upbeat music and funny stories and laughter.” No silent cake-eating for me.

Now I have another request for my brother, having read the heartbreaking obituaries of the children who died in Newtown, Connecticut: I want my obituary to read like theirs and not like an adult’s.

Obits for adults are mostly about where they worked and what honors they received:

“He was employed by Hewlett Packard for 36 years.”

“She volunteered for the Springfield Animal Shelter.”

“She received a Lifetime Achievement Award from the Oakland Chamber of Commerce.”

But children haven’t lived long enough to rack up many achievements, so their obituaries read much differently. The Newtown obits illustrate how:

“Ben loved the local soccer program, often running across the field long after it was actually necessary, but always smiling and laughing.”

“James would often sing at the top of his lungs and once asked, ‘How old do I have to be to sing on a stage?’”

“Emilie could always be found with her markers, colored pens and paper, because as she put it, ‘I have so many ideas of things to draw and it is hard to remember them all.’”

“Allison would often surprise people with random acts of kindness, once even offering her snacks to a complete stranger on a plane.”

For adults, obits are about what they did. But for children, they’re about who they were. It’s about their spirit, that nebulous thing we sense when we’re around people we love and enjoy. As a result, the obituaries for the children of Newtown could end up less of a reminder of how they died than a lesson on how to live.

I’m not suggesting that adults skip their weekly status meetings so they can “twirl in a pink tutu,” like six-year-old Olivia of Sandy Hook Elementary School did. But maybe you can bring some homemade banana bread now and then, or lend your jacket to a co-worker who’s chilly. Or make everyone laugh.

I’m asking my fellow adults to reconsider how you’d like to be remembered, and then start living that way in small ways, every day. Live so that your obituary reads less like a résumé and more like a tribute to someone who will be dearly missed.

On Christmas, my brother, his daughter, my sons and I each wrote about a dozen one-sentence tributes to my 75 year-old mother. My son thanked her for sharing stories from her “infinite memory.” My brother recalled how she always made sure his soccer team had both the green and the orange-flavored Gatorade at half-time. I wrote about the time she danced the jitterbug with me in the back of a store, only to discover we’d been on closed-captioned TV at the checkout counter the whole time.

In a little jar, one slip of paper at a time, we shared what it is about her spirit that will stay with us for a lifetime. At her funeral as at mine, there will be no silent cake-eating. There will be music and laughter, and our obituaries will read like a child’s.

Have you thought about how you want people to remember you?

This post is by Jen Singer and was originally written for Momma Said.

Image via Alan Light/Flickr

Filed Under: cancer, funerals


  • BethA...


    January 21, 2013 at 8:27 PM
    This post is beautiful to me! I love laughter and I truly believe that there is a better place for our souls after our bodies quit on us. If the deceased person believes in a higher place, shouldn't we celebrate their passing? I want to be remembered for my laughter and light......and I want my passing to be celebrated! Thank you for this post, Ms Singer......mortality is hard to face, but we all have our time and we should feel confident enough to declare how we want to be memorialized! I wish you much luck and many blessings!!
  • Paula...
    -- Facebook comment from

    Paula Mullis

    January 21, 2013 at 8:39 PM
    I have told my kids to skip the visitation and funerals rituals. I want them to have a fish fry/cook out and invite everyone. Listen to 80's music and tell silly stories about me. That would make me happy
  • dixie...


    January 21, 2013 at 8:44 PM
    I've told my family, that I don't want traditional funeral hymns played, I want heavy metal / hard rock played. I also want a bonfire instead of a funeral and visitation.
  • kelti...


    January 21, 2013 at 8:52 PM
    I've told my husband that I want to be cremated, my ashes spread over a lake in Ireland. Then I want a huge party for all my family and friends. Lots of Irish music, dancing, drinking, laughing. No crying, unless it's from laughing so hard at one of the idiotic things I did in my life.
  • names...


    January 21, 2013 at 9:23 PM
    Love this post!
  • Tiffa...
    -- Facebook comment from

    Tiffany Klingler

    January 22, 2013 at 3:38 AM

    My husband wants metal played at his funeral.  I want oldies played at mine.  We both want to be creameted with our hearts done separately so, whichever is still alive, can put the ashes of the heart in a necklace to have forever (his idea...I just really like it).

  • ginge...


    January 22, 2013 at 11:11 AM

    honestly, I really don't care. I've told my husband already that I have absolutely no preferences for my funeral, because... I'll be dead. I won't care! He can do whatever he needs to to make himself feel better during that time, but it won't matter to me.

  • Freela


    January 22, 2013 at 12:34 PM

    I think it would be nice to have an 'upbeat funeral'- but honestly, my furneral won't be for me. I'll already be dead. It will be about the people left behind, so quite honestly, they can do whatever will help them the most. I've been to some sad, sad funerals that were actually really cathartic, and ultimately I think that is what funerals are probably intended to do.

  • Oh...
    -- Facebook comment from

    Oh Cee Dee

    January 22, 2013 at 1:44 PM

    I have told my 5 children that I do not want them to have a funeral for me.  I want to be cremated and they can do what they want with my ashes.  I don't care, I'll be dead!  I want them to have a crazy party and make it like a huge birthday party.  I want laughter and loud music and beer and wine and yummy food.  I don't want them to be sorry that I died, I want them to be happy that I lived.  I never pass up any opportunity to do something.  I always find the fun in SOMETHING, no matter if we are broken down on the side of the road.  I want to pass that onto my kids.  Have fun ALL THE TIME.  Try something new, do something different.  Don't be a lump on the couch.  Someday, my kids will realize why I drag them around doing all these different things and seeing all these different things and why I am always trying new recipes on them.  I want the to EXPERIENCE life and live it to the fullest!  Rock on!

  • jessi...


    January 22, 2013 at 7:02 PM

    nice post :-) 

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