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Jewish Journal

Ding Dong The Witch Is Dead, and Other Cheerful Thoughts About Going to my Own Funeral

by Sarah Tuttle-Singer

March 29, 2011 | 12:57 pm

When my mom’s oncologist told her in no uncertain terms that all the   chemo, clinical trials,  vats of green tea and chanting at the Ashram   weren’t doing a lick of good, she fired up her computer, lit a cigarette   (hey, she was a goner anyway,)  poured herself a strong cup of instant   coffee, and sat down to plan her funeral.


“Wouldn’t   it be great to go to your own funeral?”  She asked in the middle of   downloading Peter Paul and Mary’s song “Weave Me The Sunshine” for the processional.   “Like Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn?”

I thought about it while she dragged the downloaded music file onto the playlist she was assembling. 


She was right:  Going to your own funeral would be like the ultimate love-in - like the Academy Awards, only even more

masturbatory self-congratulatory.


When   else are you going to see yourself in the best light?  When else are   you going to be front and center—so what if it’s in a wooden box—  and the star of the show?  


What other time but at a funeral or wake are your foibles going to be magically transformed into charming anecdotes… 


  In real life, I don’t know when to shut up.  But when I’m dead, I’ll be someone who spoke the truth.   In real life, I’m sloppy and   disorganized.  But when I’m dead, I’ll be “creative.”  In real life, I’m   lazy.  But when I’m dead, I’ll be someone who didn’t sweat the small   stuff

(like house cleaning or cooking or an honest days work.) 


In   real life, I’m an obnoxious exhibitionist who is so insecure that she   needs to go to her own funeral for validation.  But when I’m dead, I’ll   be  “Sarah!  A an honest, creative,  and spirited woman!  Let us drink a glass of wine in her honor!” 


Pour one out for your homies.


There won’t be a dry eye in the house.


Unless of course, nobody came to my funeral.  


Or worse.  People came to enjoy themselves while singing a rousing chorus of Ding Dong The Witch Is Dead.” 



(Ah, now there’s a song for the processional…)  

But on the plus side, if I do catch someone enjoying themselves a little too much at my funeral, I’m a haunt a bitch. 


Delusions of grandeur and departure from reality not withstanding, I know that you can’t really go to our own funeral.  Unless you’re a complete douchebags who likes to play on the feelings of your loved ones just to get a little positive reinforcement. 
   
But still, like my mom, you can set the tone for the whole thing with a kickass playlist.




So, I’m curious:  What songs would you want included at YOUR funeral?   Speak now, or forever hold your peace.




 

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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Sarah Emily Tuttle-Singer is a stay-at-home mama who craves adult interaction, a triple-shot latte, and a stiff drink

and a good night’s sleep.  Born and raised in Los...

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