Embrace All of Me

At my funeral, I ask that you stand up and say, “Remember when…”

I ask that you embrace every part of my life, embrace all of me

Please don’t be shy, share how I was a part of you

Laugh at me, cry for me, shake your head towards me

For I am a story to be told.

Remember when I was a child who wore pig-tails and hand-me-downs

How I sat in a mud puddle and wriggled my toes in the moist earth

And dad taught me the names of flowers and trees

And my grandma sang Girl Scout songs on road trips

And I was awkward and smart, and sad, and creative.

Remember when I was a teenager with orange hair and rubber bracelets

I danced in my bedroom lip-syncing Cindi Lauper and Thompson Twins

The Breakfast Club was my anthem, and I read romance novels day and night

And I waited for my own Mr. Darcy to take me away

And my friends were life, and life was this day, this moment, right now.

Remember when I was a young woman, just married, a new mother

I learned I couldn’t cook, avoided housework, I despised doing the laundry

I learned that life was about love, but also about groceries and paying the bills

I sang my baby to sleep and crawled backward out of the room not to wake him

And my husband and I hugged each other after each victory and defeat.

Remember when I was growing into my skin, finding my self, becoming

I was diagnosed with a mental illness, and I was hormonal, I was a woman

I would do silly things, and my husband just looked at me with a smile

My days filled with work, and homework, and housework, and sleep

I talked about dreams and fears and asked if I was doing it – life – right.

Remember when I was in my second season, an older, wiser, woman

When the people around me mattered more than money, or a house, or a car

I would still do silly things, and learned to laugh at myself more

And I learned how to cry, a tender nourishing cry, for myself and those in my world

I lost people. I found people. I surrounded myself with people who were right for me

And remember that old, achy, eccentric woman who can’t get out of her chair

Who would do anything for a candy bar or fudge brownies

Who would spend hours watching BBC Jane Austen movies, and swear at Mr. Darcy

And hold my great-grandbabies on my lap with adoration and tender love

And I held my husband’s hand when I fall asleep at night.

And when I was elderly, I was crabby, inflexible, opinionated

I was ill-tempered from pain and weariness

I kicked you out of the room swinging my cane and swearing

I would say things out of fear and anger that I won’t take back

And I stared at you blankly and wondered who you are.

I am impermanent, I move, I change, I grow, and I will die

I am a story, unfolding every day, with chapters to write and be read

Every moment I’m molded by you, my loved ones and strangers that pass me

And I absorb all of you into being a part of my life, thank you, and please

I ask that you embrace every part of my life, embrace all of me

I hope you enjoyed this open prose about myself and reflect with me how we are all changing, impermanent, souls filled with Basic Goodness. With love, Sue Y