“His face glows with sheer happiness and peace; radiating sunshine overflowing into the lives of others, not tarnished by the worry and fret of this world. His smile is seen as frequently as the dew in the early morning, spreading contagious affects to those saw it. His laugh is nowhere near melodious. as a matter of fact, some might think it to be obnoxious for it is loud and bellowed from deep within his belly and may or may not even sound like Elmo’s but I love it nonetheless. His eyes, when you peer into them, you can see the passion, deep sincerity, ecstatic joy, and unmeasurable love from within his soul. When things got hard, his hug was comfort and serenity. Those loving arms would engulf you in a bone-crushing manner and you’d be safe and all worry of harm floated away from your mind. His hands, though they are rough and worn out from hard work, when they held mine, his hands became as delicate and gentle as a rose petal. His short legs are not to be underestimated for they are well-built. They have carried him from this place to that place and never seem to stop moving. His love is an ever-flowing fountain that shows no sign of drying up and when it comes to my mom, his love knows no limits. His mindset is that of positivity even when many others might’ve found him fanatical for thinking in that way. His words are encouraging and never would he be caught uttering harsh ones. His life was that of service and helping others. His presence has not left even tho his last breath has. He was always there and will forever be.

“And as his daughter, I will forever and always hold him close to my heart; in a place locked by memories and sealed with a “daddy’s little girl” kiss. We love you, Dad.”

Whenever we meet with a family we always hope they will make the service their own, that the decisions they make will be governed by the life they are gathering to commemorate.  Why?  Because every life is unique and that uniqueness deserves to be recognized and celebrated.  It is what defined them while they lived and it is what we will remember in death.

The opening paragraphs here are a prime example of what can happen when a family chooses to make their service a reflection of that life.  When I first read those words on the inside of his memorial folder I just stopped.  And then I read them again.  You could see the enormous personality that had been lost and you could feel the pride and love this child held for her daddy—all because they decided to write their own tribute rather than choose one from those we had available.  Her words held far more meaning than any we could have provided because they came from her heart.

During a funeral service someone’s personality can be allowed to shine in so many different ways, whether through the choice of music or the message, the memorial folder or personal items displayed, or perhaps even activities that involve everyone in attendance.  When my dad died we all sang for the first fifteen minutes of his service because he loved music and he loved to sing.  And we had to use Frank Sinatra’s rendition of “My Way” somewhere because he made the office secretary promise she’d harass us into submission on that point.  And he actually closed his own service by singing “May You Always”—a recorded version someone had from a church talent show years before.

Although all of those things were reflections of my father’s life, they wouldn’t be appropriate choices for many.  Fortunately, that’s not a problem since the options are truly endless.  People have chosen caskets and register books based on favorite colors or how someone made their living.  They’ve brought handmade quilts or paintings to display, picture albums or newspaper clippings and certificates of recognition—one woman had been a dancer during the 1940s so the family asked if music from that era could be played during her visitation.  We’ve gone to the cemetery with the casket in the back of a mule-drawn wagon or a vintage El Camino.  We’ve been led by fire trucks and antique pick-ups or a slew of motorcycles.  There was the Christmas themed funeral in June and the balloons released because the day of her funeral was also the day of her birth 85 years earlier.

I could go on . . . and on . . . and on . . . but you get the picture.  A family’s desire for a unique service is a delight to any good funeral director.  You see, we want that service to honor your loved one while meeting your needs because, as I have often said, the funeral may be about one particular person but it’s for everyone they’ve left behind.  What better way to celebrate and honor a life well-lived than with a service that truly reflects that life?

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