Funeral surprises
You can’t spell funeral without fun
Trevor* had an advanced skin cancer that had spread to his liver, lungs and brain. His deterioration was rapid but not unexpected, and he spent only a handful of days with us in the hospice. In the three short days that we knew Trevor, he really made us laugh - not the kind of polite chuckle you make when someone makes a bad joke, but the kind where your jaw is sore and you nearly wet yourself. Each encounter we had with Trevor left us with a smile and a sore stomach.
He was an accountant who wished he had become a professional clown instead, because he loved making people happy and ‘counting money is not the way to happiness’. His retirement plan, had he lived another 20 years, would have been to take up clowning lessons so that he could volunteer at the children’s hospital near his house.
On his second (and second-last) day with us, Trevor let us in on a secret that he had kept even from his wife. He told us of his intention to surprise his funeral attendees, including his family. He had a three-step plan all mapped out that only his best friend Dave* was privy to, and had been given full responsibility to carry out.
Step 1: Pre-recorded service
Trevor decided that he would be ‘the voice of the funeral’. He had borrowed a ‘script’ from the minister of a friend’s church, and recorded himself reading from it so that he could carry out his own service. All Dave had to do was to stand at the AV desk and hit play/pause.
Step 2: Pre-recorded eulogy
Trevor also decided that he wished to eulogise himself, and spent his final weeks drafting out ‘the perfect tribute’ with help from a very amused Dave. He wanted to know exactly what was said in his eulogy, and this was the best way to do it.
(This was actually our second time hearing of something similar; another patient of ours had previously held an awake funeral wake to fact-check her own eulogy’
Step 3: Cardboard cutout of himself
Trevor did not wish to have an open casket at the wake because the cancer had affected the skin on his face and neck; he decided to have a cardboard cutout of himself made instead. He showed us a photo on his phone - dressed in a sharp tweed suit and in a relaxed pose so that he could display it at the entrance of the service to welcome his funeral guests.
Writing about it simply could not do it justice; we left that room nearly sobbing with laughter that morning. He was the last patient we had reviewed on the ward round, and we spent our post-round tea break just reliving how he told us of his brilliantly hilarious plans.
Trevor passed away the next day in the loving presence of his family. His wife came into the hospice a week later with a collection they had made for the hospice at the funeral, and gave us an order of service to keep.
Printed at the bottom of the booklet was: ‘You can’t spell funeral without fun’.
This week’s reflection prompt: Do people leave your presence feeling happy and uplifted?
*All names and details have been changed to protect patient confidentiality
Wow this is awesome!