When my parents passed in 2003, they had their act together, but the relatives who didn't have families weren't concerned much about lasting legacies. In fact, I barely knew they had died.
I knew they were sick and visited my ailing uncle who was in hospice at home and my two aunts were spent their last days in a nursing home.
My cousin sent out a emails informing me about their demise and that there would be no services or memorials.
In my view, funerals are for the living. It would have been nice to get together with my cousins. Seems like the only times we meet up is at funerals.
We all die alone, particularly if it's a brain aneurysm, massive heart attack or in a grisly car accident. I just finished a book about my life in the health care system. The story goes backward and begins with my death. I'm loading the dishwasher and end up dying on the spot.
In real life, I can barely organize my next birthday and may not get around to it. But if I don't keep in touch with my friends and family, chances are, I'll die and nobody notices, not that there's anything wrong with that.
The Lenten lesson today is about Jesus having dinner at Lazarus's house. He's the guy that Jesus raised from the dead. A woman who was at the dinner, maybe she was a relative of Lazarus, but she rubbed some exotic perfume on Jesus's feet to honor him. The remainder would be placed in Jesus's tomb when he was predicted to die a few days later.
Jesus could have said the homage wasn't necessary, but he didn't have problem with her spending big bucks to honor him. I always wanted my funeral to be a happy event with a band and lots of food paid for whatever money I had left over.
It would just be my luck that when I entered the Pearly Gates, St. Peter would say, "Welcome to Heaven, Alan, but where's all your stuff?"
— alanohashi
I knew they were sick and visited my ailing uncle who was in hospice at home and my two aunts were spent their last days in a nursing home.
My cousin sent out a emails informing me about their demise and that there would be no services or memorials.
In my view, funerals are for the living. It would have been nice to get together with my cousins. Seems like the only times we meet up is at funerals.
We all die alone, particularly if it's a brain aneurysm, massive heart attack or in a grisly car accident. I just finished a book about my life in the health care system. The story goes backward and begins with my death. I'm loading the dishwasher and end up dying on the spot.
In real life, I can barely organize my next birthday and may not get around to it. But if I don't keep in touch with my friends and family, chances are, I'll die and nobody notices, not that there's anything wrong with that.
The Lenten lesson today is about Jesus having dinner at Lazarus's house. He's the guy that Jesus raised from the dead. A woman who was at the dinner, maybe she was a relative of Lazarus, but she rubbed some exotic perfume on Jesus's feet to honor him. The remainder would be placed in Jesus's tomb when he was predicted to die a few days later.
Jesus could have said the homage wasn't necessary, but he didn't have problem with her spending big bucks to honor him. I always wanted my funeral to be a happy event with a band and lots of food paid for whatever money I had left over.
It would just be my luck that when I entered the Pearly Gates, St. Peter would say, "Welcome to Heaven, Alan, but where's all your stuff?"
— alanohashi
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