Today I attended the wake of a man who died far too young. I don’t want to dwell on the specifics of that, but such events always give me reasons to pause and reflect on my own life. And so I offer you the following thoughts, in no particular order. For whatever it’s worth…
- I hate wakes. I attend them because it’s the right thing to do. I pay my respect to both the deceased and to those left behind. But I hate these things! I promise you, if I had any say in the matter, I would not attend my own. And if I had to be there, I’d make sure there was entertainment, and maybe even an open bar. I thought it might be cool to make a video in preparation for this eventuality. Can’t you just see it?
“Hi! I’m Michael D’Aversa. If you’re watching this video, I’m dead!”
- The first wake I ever attended was for an 8th grade classmate of mine who succomed to a brain tumor back in 1975. He was a good guy and an altar boy. I still think about him to this day, as well as other people who died before me and in each case, for the life of me, I cannot tell you why they’re gone and I’m still here.
- I am going to die, eventually. I don’t know when and I don’t know why. But understand this, if you can: When I die, go ahead and cry about it; but then pick yourself up. In the end, I don’t want you to think about how I died, but how I lived.
- If I die in a firey motorcycle crash, know that I died while doing something I loved. That’s not a tragedy. A tragedy would be for me to suffer a fatal stroke while seated at a desk, sruggling to find a way to save a few cents off the cost of a given thing.
I know, strange odds and ends. Thanks for hanging with me.