Dr. Eric Jarvis was here this weekend. I have to say the word doctor here for he kept asking me questions. “Are you feeling any pain?” “Is your hip hurting?” “Do you need more medicine?” “Will you be able to manage this trip to the restaurant?” “Are you getting tired?” He was so solicitous of my health.
I finally said, “You are asking me so many medical questions, and so few social ones, Eric. I am afraid in a few minutes more, you will be sending me a bill.”
He laughed and sweeping his hand in front of him he said, “Yes, just lay down here on my couch.”
I said, “Look, if this a free consultation, I will show you something I have never shown another living person. You are about to see something I have told no one about. But before I do that I am going to tell you that I am worried about how my funeral is going to go. I don't trust that my kids can organize a funeral while they are grieving. So I have an essay that was written by Catherine about me when she and I we both taking a class together: Women in Quebec. The assignment was to write about a woman, and Catherine chose me. I think that for my funeral it will be easier to just make copies of that essay and hand them out at the door. Then someone won’t have to do a biography from the pulpit. Do you think that would be crass? Make everyone read 12 pages while they are waiting for the funeral to begin. That would be so like me. Funerals are taking different shapes now. At any rate, here is what I collect that I have never shown anyone.”
I proceeded to go to my filing cabinet and pulled out a plethora of funeral programs.
“Now you see it. I bet none of your patients have every disclosed something like that,” I said holding out multiples of programmes: 4” x 5”, “8 1/2 x 5”, some large and with a double insert, a few in in black and white, some in colour, many with a list of the person’s posterity.
“If I get a new funeral program and add it to the others in the filing cabinet, I get a warm feeling as I think about the people I have loved and whose programs I can’t throw away.”
“And here is something even odder. I have a collection of poems that deal with death".
Then I showed Eric “Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep” by J.T. Wiggins, and Harry Scott Hollands' “Death is nothing at all / I have only slipped into the next room”. Next out came Christina Rossetti’s “Remember me when I am gone away.”
I have no idea why I am collecting those, for I don't even like poetry. On the other hand, they are so beautiful.
To get right to the point. It has been lovely to get older and have collections, of which I have many, and some of which I never share.
I didn’t start out to collect items. I would just get something and then another of the same kind of thing and then find happiness in saving the items.
And that is it for yet another joy in my list of eighty memories I have had in 80 years.
Today I have thought about the privilege of having collections.
Arta
I finally said, “You are asking me so many medical questions, and so few social ones, Eric. I am afraid in a few minutes more, you will be sending me a bill.”
He laughed and sweeping his hand in front of him he said, “Yes, just lay down here on my couch.”
I said, “Look, if this a free consultation, I will show you something I have never shown another living person. You are about to see something I have told no one about. But before I do that I am going to tell you that I am worried about how my funeral is going to go. I don't trust that my kids can organize a funeral while they are grieving. So I have an essay that was written by Catherine about me when she and I we both taking a class together: Women in Quebec. The assignment was to write about a woman, and Catherine chose me. I think that for my funeral it will be easier to just make copies of that essay and hand them out at the door. Then someone won’t have to do a biography from the pulpit. Do you think that would be crass? Make everyone read 12 pages while they are waiting for the funeral to begin. That would be so like me. Funerals are taking different shapes now. At any rate, here is what I collect that I have never shown anyone.”
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| ... just a smattering of my funeral programs ... |
“Now you see it. I bet none of your patients have every disclosed something like that,” I said holding out multiples of programmes: 4” x 5”, “8 1/2 x 5”, some large and with a double insert, a few in in black and white, some in colour, many with a list of the person’s posterity.
“If I get a new funeral program and add it to the others in the filing cabinet, I get a warm feeling as I think about the people I have loved and whose programs I can’t throw away.”
“And here is something even odder. I have a collection of poems that deal with death".
Then I showed Eric “Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep” by J.T. Wiggins, and Harry Scott Hollands' “Death is nothing at all / I have only slipped into the next room”. Next out came Christina Rossetti’s “Remember me when I am gone away.”
I have no idea why I am collecting those, for I don't even like poetry. On the other hand, they are so beautiful.
To get right to the point. It has been lovely to get older and have collections, of which I have many, and some of which I never share.
I didn’t start out to collect items. I would just get something and then another of the same kind of thing and then find happiness in saving the items.
And that is it for yet another joy in my list of eighty memories I have had in 80 years.
Today I have thought about the privilege of having collections.
Arta
And you have started another collection, of memories and blogs about those memories- 80 memories for 80 years. Ria
ReplyDeleteI agree, Ria, and I am loving this collection of memories.
DeleteYou made me laugh right out loud with your question to Eric about him possibly sending you a bill. Did he give you a diagnosis after seeing your collection? My diagnosis for you would be "funeralitis."
ReplyDeleteThe cure? Exactly what you are doing - saving a collection of difficult to write pieces that remind you of those you have been connected to. I like hearing about the warm feeling you get when you add to your collection the memories of another friend or loved one.
If you kept copies, you would also have a thick folder of notes you have written to family members upon the death of their loved one.
I hope you share Catherine's essay before your funeral. I'd love to read it now.
1. Re Eric's diagnosis? Eric just looked at the collection of papers and then told me he had been observing my book case and noticed that I have a big binder that says "Breads" on it. He wanted to know what I was collecting there. I told him that I could probably make him any kind of bread (within reason) that he could ask for. He only laughed, told me not to go to the trouble to prove that I could make many loaves of bread, and remarked that he could see other collections going on.
Delete2. You are right that after some people die, I do want to talk to them or write to them about how I have loved the ones who are close to them as well. When just saying "I am sorry for your loss" would be enough, I just feel the need to take it one step further -- but it is all about me, and not them.
3. That essay of Catherines? I put it in a safe place where I can no longer find it. I must find it before I die.
I have a little disconnect in item #2 above. It is the mourners that I write a letter to, not to the dead.
DeleteJust to go on a bit about that, I learned a long time ago that I should say something to people while they are living and not hold back on words that should be said while people are still alive. That is a memory that is not going to make it into my Best Memories of Eighty Years, but it should and could be there. Going to people and telling them how much I love them before they die? That has really seemed to work for me.
Courage and love. A powerful combination.
Delete