My friend Breanne sent me this email to tell me what she would say about me at my funeral. I found myself pleasantly surprised, then inspired by her kind words and interesting observation. How rarely we share our true feelings for those around us in life! Thus, the living eulogy.
Please give this meaningful passage a read and think about who in your life could use a bit of love and support.
Thank you Bre. 😀 ❤
So I know this is incredibly random but I wanted to tell you the story of what I was thinking last night as I attempted to break through the non-stop walls of my brain and actually fall asleep for once. First though, I want to apologize for the twisted origin of my thoughts, my brain was just meandering into weird corners due to the lack of sleep. Okay, so here goes.
As I was laying awake last night my brain turned to various school assignments and such, as brains tend to do, and one of things I’m working on is a fictional account of what someone might go through, psychologically and physically after a near death experience. Part of this is, I think, a way for me to work through what happened to me in Tofino last November, which I told you about over Christmas break. Those thoughts then connected to you, and to your recent close calls, which led me into thinking what would happen if you died (and here’s where the twisted part comes in) and what I would say at your funeral if that were, God forbid, to happen anytime soon. Now I’m sure it won’t. There is too much you have yet to say and to do in this world that can create positive change for you to be leaving in the conceivable future. But then I thought, just because you won’t be leaving us soon is no reason for me to not tell you what an incredible person you are. Post-death eulogies are great and all, but we should tell people what they mean to us before, and often. And ironically enough, the word eulogy comes from the classical Greek word “eulogia” which means “praise” – and praise shouldn’t be reserved for people after they die; people should be cherished and loved and appreciated while they are alive and doing great things for others. So this, here, is my eulogy for you, Levi:
You are not a survivor or a fighter, though you have both survived and fought what could have been insurmountable odds. You are a liver. You live every single day that you have been given and you share your life and your lessons with endless positivity and strength. You make the choice every day to help others and to spread happiness. You choose to live out each of those days spontaneously and take everything that you can’t change in stride. You make friends with everyone you meet and you take the time to actually get to know them. More than that, you actually care. While we were at the Boyd’s hanging out before the annual Jake’s Boxing Day party over Christmas you paused for a second in our conversation, looked at me thoughtfully, then asked me a question. The question was: What is something that has made you smile recently? I looked at you strangely for a second, unsure if you were joking or being weird but what I saw in your face was genuine curiosity and interest. So I told you something about my brothers being home and we chatted for a little about that and something my story reminded you of before I asked you what the question was all about. You told me that it was an experiment to actually talk to people about things that matter and to get to know someone beyond the banalities of small talk that we so often rely on and rarely move beyond. You said that you asked me because you knew I would go along with it. I was honoured that you thought of me in this way, but even more I was so impressed at your genuine love and curiosity for and about people. I appreciated your question, and even more, I appreciated that you wanted to ask it. You are someone that is so easy to talk to because of that care and love and friendship that exudes out of each word you say and action you take. You are a great friend. And even though I hadn’t seen you for months (possibly years) when we met at Christmas break, I told you the about the traumatic event that had happened to me in Tofino. Though it had been over a month at that time since that event, you were the first person, outside of my family and friends that were in Tofino with me, that I had told. I still haven’t talked about it with many people. Yet there was something about you that made me want to tell you, that made me believe you would care and would be able to provide comfort. You did. And there is really no higher praise I can give you than that. I know you’ve been through a lot of ups and downs lately but I wanted to share with you how special you are to all of us who are privileged enough to have a little of you in our lives – maybe these words will even help you the next time things start to look bad. And if you ever need a friend, I hope you know that you can count on me.
Sorry for the slightly morbid-ness of this random email.
Hope this finds you well,
P.S. – What’s made you smile recently?”
Do you have someone who you should share your appreciations with? I couldn’t help but draft up a email to a few members of my family to show my sometimes unexpressed appreciation.