A Letter To The Funeral Director I Haven’t Met Yet
Article By Krystal Penrose, funeralOne
Dear funeral director I haven’t met yet,
I know I should have written before. Please forgive me.
But I got the feeling that you were beginning to forget about me. And I wanted to let you know that while I haven’t been upfront with what I wanted from you, I’m here now.
They say you only live once, but the way I see it, you only die once too, so I’m here to tell you what I want when my time comes so we can make it count.
First off, even though I try to be brave, I’m scared to die. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me when my time comes. Will it be like a fuse blowing out and everything that’s inside me will shut off, forever? Or will it be an awakening, a new chapter? When we meet, I’m going to want to talk about that with you. And I want you to be knowledgeable, comforting and open. If we’re going to plan my end-of-life, I want to know what to expect. Because we can never be too prepared, can we?
Secondly, you should know that I don’t know a damn thing about planning a funeral. I’ve heard the terms “green burial”, “embalming” and “cremation” before, but I’m not sure which one is best for me. All I ask is that you present me all of the options that I have. Not as a sales person, but as a guide who’s there to help me choose what’s best for my needs, not your pocket. I promise if you help me in a meaningful way, I’ll recommend you to my friends and family.
Third, you should understand that I don’t want my funeral to be like anyone else’s. My life is like a glimpse of light in the sky, like a shooting star that’s gone just as fast as it appears. I want to know that I can count on you to show the world what made my light shine the brightest. So skip the overplayed Amazing Grace tunes and the cookie-cutter eulogy. Interview me and my family and find out my biggest accomplishments, values and favorite things in the world so you can put them on display. In a world that moves this fast, it’s easy to be forgotten, so show the world what made me unique with a service that’s just as unique.
Lastly, I need you to help me plan a meaningful, extraordinary way to celebrate my life. That means you can’t offer me the same services you offered my mom or my grandmother. I’m a millennial, and I know what I want even more than my Baby Boomer mother does. You can start by leaving the funeral home, black clothes and funeral flowers behind with my relatives. Instead, I want bright colors, sunshine and sunflowers everywhere. Cater my spectacular celebration amazing food and even better drinks.
Encourage people to come together and celebrate me with stories and memories, not mourn me. Inspire laughter. So much laughter that I can hear it all the way from heaven. Tell my funeral guests about a place that people can go to remember me. Don’t forget about my family, either. Make sure they’re taken care of when I’m gone. Use your knowledge and comforting ways to help them grieve in a healthy way.
And when it’s all said and done, showcase all of the hard work you did celebrating me so that other people know how you can celebrate them, too. I know it’s hard, but it’s OK to brag sometimes, and I’m letting you know that you’re more than welcome to use me as an example to inspire the many people who will walk through your doors after me.
I know this might sound like a lot, but at least now you know how to offer me what I’m looking for when I find you.
I look forward to the day we meet, my future funeral director.
The millennial you haven’t met yet