In Passing

There were services today for the thirty something daughter of a friend who passed awayseveral weeks ago.  The chapel of the mortuary was packed:  Standing room only with many people forced to stand outside.  There was like parked cars from hell to breakfast.  No room inside.  No room to park.

A recorded song was played at the beginning of the service.   No doubt the song had special meaning to the family.   Each of us listened.  Each if us probably reflected.  And most likely most in attendance thought of another song we'd like played at our memorial service.  There's those of us who don't think there's not ever going to be a memorial service for them because we're going to live forever.  Like those vampire people on HBO.  That's what I'm talking about.

Well, hell.  A song popped into my mind during the service and thought it would have been a much better choice today.  If I die (and I'm not) the memorial plans would be to:

Have the memorial service at the homeless rescue mission.

A steak dinner and a bottle of Jack for everyone.

After dinner everyone is directed to stand up, put their hands together, and dance a few steps to this one.

Better than any sermon about and for Bob. . . .

Turn up your speakers.  Stand up, put your hands together, dance a little boogie to this one.  And take my IOU for the steak dinner and bottle of Jack.  Bob ain't dead yet.