At my funeral...

All these recent deaths have, ironically enough, resurrected a topic which I've been neglecting for some time. That topic being our impulse to sanctify the legacy of the dead. There's a knee-jerk reaction to any sort of recognition of a deceased person's flaws so soon after their passing. It's my personal opinion that in order to appreciate another's life, we need an understanding and acknowledgement of all facets of their life, even when it can sometimes be unpleasant. 

At my funeral, I don't want my life to be sugar-coated. I don't want anyone spouting clichés like, "He'd give the shirt off his back" or something equally ridiculous. I would never do something like that. I might buy someone a shirt, but that's not the same. Instead, let my friends and loved ones tell it like it is. Let people talk about how obnoxious I could be. Let them say that my affectionate gestures could be off-putting and, according to some people, creepy.  Tell everyone how I was haunted by insecurities and was frequently validated. How I more often than not failed in life and love. Talk about my mediocre talent and how insufferably pretentious I could be with my work. If you want to laugh, talk about what an absolute horror show it was when I danced for a musical. Talk about how I was in love with my own voice and how I thought I was a better singer than reality has ever suggested. There's a start.

If you could stomach all those horrible things about me, then you would maybe find the good things much more rewarding. For example, my habit of self-deprecation. Perhaps you'd appreciate it and understand it for what it is: a desperate desire for humility. If you could get past how infuriating it can be when I do elaborate mental gymnastics in a spat, it might allow you to appreciate my overly analytical nature and tendency toward self-reflection. When you hear how my overt religiosity was pompous, there's also the possibility of recognizing the desire of wanting the best in, from, and for people.

I've made it known in the past that I'd really like to have my funeral in the style of a celebrity roast. That's not a joke. The saying goes that laughter is the best medicine and where do people need comfort more than at a funeral? Seems like a perfect opportunity to air one's grievances and get some much-needed relief in the form of humor.  This is, of course, being stated on the assumption that I will die at a ripe old age. Here's hoping.

 

-L. Travis Hoffman

12/30/2016