My eulogy
I don’t trust anyone to write my eulogy for me. It’s a task someone will be burdened with soon unless I write it myself. Read this VERBATIM. Everyone must be dressed in polka dots. The polka was Clyde's favorite dance and dots symbolize that we are but a small dot in a large, endless universe.
Read this while playing “Ave Maria.” Speak with a clear, tremorless voice and hold your head high. I will not have a double-chinned timid send-off. So help me god, I’ll rise up and read it myself.
_______
Monica is dead. She died at 93 with three children and nine grandchildren. She leaves Clyde, her third husband, with their three dachshunds Eenie, Meenie and Mo. As you can tell, Monica believed wholeheartedly that good things come in threes.
She followed that belief to the grave. Her death was destined to come after the third fall. Now you may be asking yourself, “Oh Monica, how is death a good thing!?” And knowing Monica, it was a very good thing for her and everyone here.
[stop and make solid eye contact with the crowd]
Monica was aware of her effect on people. She was magnanimous, a Hollywood starlet who had— no shocker here— three blockbuster hits. She could be a pill to work with and was a difficult mother. Her body temperature now reflects the coldness many felt from her.
Despite her being difficult to love, she had lovers whom she adored tremendously. She loved the only way she knew how– by pushing those she cared about to be better. She was notorious for showing her affection through criticism, which hasn’t been all that bad for the receivers. After all, Frederique won a Tony for his musical based on their relationship. She knew when to polish a turd. And when to just leave it for Marta to pick up.
We mustn’t forget Monica’s nihilistic attitude and how it propelled her to live every day to the fullest. She had zero tolerance for time wasting and treated each day as a gift. She refused to do anything half-assed, which begat her gargantuan parties, some of which you have attended and gotten sloppily drunk at. Yes, she probably saw you with your head between a porcelain seat, but she kept inviting you over for high tea. If that’s not unconditional love, then what is?
Monica was generous with her time, talents and money. Her party may be over, but she will still be sending you off with a gift. Under your seat, you’ll find a gift bag with three things that represent what preoccupies Monica the most: Death, sex and money. Death is represented by the sugar skulls, sex by her favorite vibrator ThePUZZYPalace, and money with a 30k check. Please wait to cash the check until her estate is settled.
You’ll also find a glass of her favorite drink– champagne. Let’s raise a glass and toast to Monica.
[turn to face my dead body]
Monica– you were the brightest star on earth and now you will be stardust. You may be gone, but your legacy lives on. Salud!
_______
There you go. I may be a bit harsh on myself, but I knew I was the only one (dead or otherwise) who would have the balls to write about me in such a way. Because it’s true, I was a difficult human. I was a poor mother at times, but I also loved fiercely. Ferociousness is a double-edged sword, and I don’t want people to think I never saw or thought about how I hurt them. I’m dying with empathy, but also with pride that I did the best with what I had.
Now off to hell with me.
