I thought about Randy Pausch when I saw the Daily Prompt Challenge on Eulogies and wondered if I could be that courageous and upbeat if I were in the same situation. But pancreatic cancer and death isn’t really funny. I wondered if I could give the same kind of kick-ass speech that he did with his Last Lecture at Carnegie Mellon University. But I’m not sure. I think I’d be pretty upset with the dying part and all, but I’d hope that if I were in that same situation I could be brave enough to speak the way he did and live by the rule that I’ve currently discovered in this blogging journey … live by The Wish Factor –by finding the funny — by going to my Silver Linings Playbook and hope I got something fantabulous in my corner. But whether I’m 101 or in my late 30s, 40s, or 50s I’d hope that my eulogy would go something like this … maybe even something better than this.
Some people remember the laugh and the long curly hair that never changed style since junior high school, well with the exception of the crazy Amanda Miguel-Aquanet Hairspray style of the late 80s, but she’d like to forget that.
Some people remember the Urban Adventures or Sandbox List Adventures at beaches, museums, LEGOLAND excursions, tailgating parties, triathlon races, camping outings, stay-cations, or vacations she had with her kids and the awesome feeling she got being their mom, because it was the best and most treasured relationship of her life. It was love.
Some people remember that she referred to herself as the Chapstick type, and not the lipstick type of girl. Some people thought about her when they saw the Trojans playing on the football field, because she practically bled Cardinal & Gold. Some people thought about her when they saw a great piece of chocolate at Trader Joe’s or any store for that matter because calories and dieting meant nothing when it came to chocolate.
Some people remember her for her zest of dancing and willingness to attack the dance floor, no matter who was out there … she was La Chona, something she probably got from her mother, along with the strong character.
Most people remembered her sense of humor and the funny she brought with her in any gathering, whether it was personal disaster stories of macing herself in the dead of night on a dark, quiet street on the way home from the library in college, or slapstick comedy like her constant battle with gravity and walking. Most people remember how she enjoyed laughing and making others laugh too.
Some people remember her for having the Dreamer’s Disease with no cure. She was in love with the underdog story and hoped hers would have a happy ending, like Rudy, Hoosiers, or The Pursuit of Happiness. She had heart. A big one. She was compassionate. She’d hoped that her spirit and laughter was contagious and that the people she met were a little bit better because they had crossed paths. But she was also stubborn, obsessed with the power of the remote control, loved watching re-runs, and was a horrible morning person before 7 a.m.
But most of all, she’d hoped to be remembered as her father’s daughter, because they had the same witty, adventurous spirit — the I’ll-go-sky-diving-Rocky-Mountain-climbing-2.7 seconds-on-a-bull-named-Blue-Man-Chu kind of spirit even though they were a little scared of heights. She’d hoped to be remembered for having a freak flag and not being afraid to fly it. But most of all she’d hoped she’d just be remembered by family and friends.