Mom’s Eulogy (She’s Not Dead)

I just spent twenty minutes in my car driving with the windows down, the sun roof open, enjoying the heck out of a gorgeous day all while rehearsing my mother’s eulogy. She’s not dead. Not even close. As of yesterday, at about 9AM she seems to be in pretty good health for a woman in her early 70’s. It was totally spontaneous, I didn’t plan it. I liken it to having a “Wheel of Random Thoughts” that my brain was in the process of spinning and as it clicked to a stop the small sliver that read “Mom’s Eulogy” came to rest as the winner.

It surprised the shit out of me. Here I am, beautiful day outside, not a cloud in the sky. One of those perfect South Louisiana mornings during the month of May. There’s a couple of days here where we get the last bit of enjoyable cloudless sky. Come June the word “enjoyable” gets replaced with “oppressive” as the full brunt of the Louisiana sun punishes us for the rest of the summer. So, here I am driving, literally minding my own business, radio blaring one of my many favorite tunes and the thought of my mom’s funeral washes over me. What happened next surprised me even more. My “go to” move whenever the thought of my mom not being here anymore comes up is to push it away. To remove it from consciousness as quickly as it arose. But this time something different happened.

I just went with it.

It was a super-weird thing for me to do. The majority of my adult life has been spent in absolute fear of the day my mom’s time on this earth comes to an end. Nothing, and I mean nothing, brings me to my knees quicker than the thought of the lady that is responsible for my existence not being here anymore. It has always paralyzed me. I have never handled it well, and I couldn’t even entertain the thought without completely losing it.

Today was different though. I EMBRACED it. Fully.  I opened the door and just let it come in. Like I was welcoming family over for Thanksgiving Dinner. This was foreign land I was entering, but for whatever reason I was marching into it like I owned the place. What happened next was powerful.

The tears were immediate. The emotion was overwhelming. As I’m writing this my fingers just pulled away from the keyboard because the feeling is coming back. It’s an alien experience to fully accept what this feels like; but in that moment I wanted to feel all of it.

Why though? Part of the reason is the mediation practice I adopted a couple of years ago. The current app I use is by a Sam Harris. He is an interesting guy, you either love him or hate him. As a practicing atheist he very much has the power to rub God-fearing people the wrong way. As a meditative person and someone I believe is trying to live a more “examined” life, I sincerely appreciate his point of view. Not to turn this into a commercial but through his app, I have really expanded my meditation practice and have been exposed to others through the interviews he posts who are also living life introspectively.

One of the people Harris interviewed is a follower of Stoic Philosophy named William Irvine. Between the two of them I have adopted some of the practices they’ve spoken about. I believe that was the impetus for what led me to formulate my not-dead-mother’s eulogy.

When it comes to emotion, Harris recommends “leaning into it”. His theory being that by allowing the feelings to happen and selling out emotionally to them, it moves through the feelings with great power. The result is that it burns out that emotion quickly. Couple that with Irvine’s Stoic practice of imagining the absence of someone to appreciate their presence, and I was ready to tackle this moment with some new tools that I was eagerly wanting test out.

I put myself at the pulpit. I imagined the notes I had written in semi-crumpled paper in front of me as I steeled myself to speak. My wife and two boys were sitting front row, dressed well, and holding on to each other. My mother’s ashes were in an urn next to me, prepared by her request to be cremated. A quick side note: a couple of years ago in what has affectionately been deemed the “death book” my mother went through the difficult process of putting together a book that was filled with instructions and papers on what to do once she passed. It had all the minutia associated with people dying that typically gets sprung on family members after death…but the type of person my mom was, she took on the very difficult task of preparing in-depth details on what I needed to do. It’s just the type of person she was, always taking care of me.

Now at this point, I am driving down the road imagining how this will all go and I am bawling. The speed at which the tears are coming prevents me from drying my face as I wipe each successive round streaming from my eyes. My hand, squeezed into a fist, is being held to my face. It is somehow helping me as I begin to speak. I struggle with words, but this is what I remember saying.

“This is going to be difficult. I know this because I don’t get to love someone as much as I love my mother without feeling equal amounts of pain now that she is not here. But that is ok. I need to feel these emotions because this is what it means to be alive and I spent a long time shirking that responsibility but now I choose to embrace it. Life is a gift. All of it. The good and the bad. We need each of those things to fully understand the other.”

At this point I am a wreck. I am considering pulling the car over, but I don’t and continue talking out loud.

“I know for a fact that my mother does not want me to be sad that she is no longer here. Given a choice my mom would celebrate life not pine over its absence. So that is what I want to do. Celebrate. There are so many memories we have of laughing and enjoying our lives together that need to be remembered. Were there tough times? God yes there were. But those tough times do not define our relationship. It’s the times of joy, the times she worked her ass off to provide me with a better life, the fond memories of her smile that are the things I will remember.”

It hits me that as of right now in this moment I have been blessed with 49 years together with my mom. That’s a long time. There are some people that live this life without ever knowing their mom and here I am in this place where I’ve got half a century together with mine.

I continue…

“Since humans have been alive on this planet there has not been a single one of us that has made it out of here alive. I don’t know why I have insisted on pretending death is not a real thing because here we are now in the face of death and now I must deal with its consequences. But I don’t believe the consequences have to be punitive. Why should they? Is it because I have this naïve belief that I must suffer with death? Why? I don’t think my mother wants me to do that. I think she wants my happiness. To be sad from this point forward would be antithetical to her beliefs. I don’t honor her with my sadness, I honor her with my zest to live the rest of my days to their absolute fullest.”

It’s at this point I focus my attention on my sons.

“Boys, this moment is for you to see something.  Life is a beautiful thing. We need to appreciate the moments and time we have together. There is going to come a time when both of you will be standing where I am now and are hopefully echoing the words that I am. Celebrate. Rejoice in the gift of breath and the gift of life. Don’t cry for my loss but remember the laughter. That’s what this thing is about.”

It was powerful. I spent that entire time believing I was there. There was nothing fake about the emotions. Nothing made up, other than the words that came to me in the moment. Then it was over. It was a surreal event. I still can’t explain where it came from, but I am glad I did what I did. I needed to, and I think I am better for it now. Right after that a funny thing happened.

I felt like I had been supercharged. The rest of the day went by with ease. Nothing bothered me. I put my head on the pillow that night glad to have lived what I thought was a really special day. What was it? I don’t think I can explain it. It could be something as simple as the shear gratitude of that event not being real that put me in such a good mood. The literal Yin/Yang of life to have simultaneously felt the good and the bad. Or it could be that I had just taken the first real step in preparation for what I am absolutely going to have to experience in time; and I made it through. I don’t know what the answer is, but I believe I am better for having leaned into it.

So, what now? I can’t say except that I think I will continue on and while I won’t actively seek out those experiences just to have them; I will definitely embrace them for the what they are. Another moment in this gift of life.