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Summer 2004 Doing Your Own Funeral VideoAt 67, Al had been combating his cancer for nearly ten years. It had started in his colon, metastasized, and finally spread to his liver and bones. Surgery, radiation, and assorted chemotherapies had bought him years, many of them good, but ultimately the disease would prevail. The time when he was relatively well allowed him to live life as usual-that is, somewhere between peaks and troughs and supermarket lines. It also allowed him the opportunity to reflect on the meaning of his life, what truly mattered to him, and, perhaps most of all, how he wanted to be remembered. The time came when his doctors anticipated that he had less than six months to live, and his goal then became to remain at home with his wife until he died. Aggressive treatment was stopped, and palliative care begun. Hospice was engaged, assuring continuity of care as well as effective pain management. Al was cachectic by this time, becoming progressively weaker and more frail. The compelling issues he was now addressing were how to apportion the limited resources of his time, energy, and strength. Always a take-charge individual, Al remained determined to direct the aftermath of his death. No detail escaped his attention. He met with his financial advisor and attorney to make certain that his financial house was in order and to make any final adjustments. He met with the funeral director, choosing his coffin and burial plot. He next turned his attention to the funeral event itself. He wanted it to be a celebration of his life and to integrate its major aspects so as to achieve a cohesive whole that would reflect the whole person. To this end, he chose six people to be the eulogists, each representing a thread of the tapestry that was his life. His former boss would represent the business community and his work life; a brotherhood colleague would represent his spiritual connection and strong commitment to service; a member of his cancer support group would represent his role as a patient advocate; his oncologist would speak of the course of his treatment, his courage and willingness to participate in experimental protocols for the greater good; one of his three daughters would represent the family. Following the service, a reception at his home, with a repast to be catered by his favorite restaurant, would take place. Al carefully chose the menu. But this plan did not yet feel sufficient to him. The funeral as he'd envisioned it was adequate for the closure of his life, but not for his legacy. He felt the need to leave something tangible behind. A lifelong cinema buff, Al developed the idea of hiring a cinematographer to film him delivering a personal message to certain people important in his life. He hoped that in this way he could secure their memory of him. By this time, however, his energies were greatly diminished. His pain medications were soporific. He was at that point where the decision was between pain and presence or drug-induced sleep. He needed to use his alert time very parsimoniously to focus on what was most important. What was of lesser importance would need to be deferred, or, as time progressed, denied. Al made the choice to put his energies behind the video project. He scripted, had filmed, and edited ten videos, to be bequeathed to ten important people in his life. By choosing to use his final vital self this way, he chose, by default, not to use it connecting with his wife and daughters. He trusted that they would remember him. Al died three weeks after the last film was completed. As he had wished and hoped, he did die at home. He was not in pain and he was not alone. Al's videos were a beautiful final project. They were distributed to the recipients as specified in his will. Some of the recipients expressed surprise that they had been selected. Others-close family friends, siblings, and other relatives-wondered why they had not. One daughter felt sad that she had been left out; she wanted the same special gift from her father. Two other daughters were angry. They felt cheated somehow, but weren't quite able to articulate why. Al's wife was left feeling furious. She simply could not comprehend what she saw as his choice to shut out her and their children in the service of connecting with others with whom Al had comparatively marginal relationships. She could not take his view of that choice; it was too foreign to her own. And ultimately she was left feeling that after nearly forty-five years of marriage, she hadn't known the person who had been her husband. I don't know in fact what became of the actual videos, but I have considered the likely options. The recipient might watch it one time, just to see what was in it. He or she might pledge to watch it yearly on some date that connected the two, or perhaps on Al's birthday or the anniversary of his death. That pledge might be honored for a year or two, perhaps longer. The passage of time often has a way of diluting the most sincere intentions. It would be difficult to throw the video out with the trash. It would seem, at the very least, irreverent and disrespectful of the dead. In time, whether sooner or later, the video will be set aside-placed in a drawer or on a shelf, somewhere out of the way and out of awareness. One person's legacy will become another person's stuff, to be discarded at the closing of the house. Erlene Rosowsky, Psy.D., is assistant clinical professor of psychology, Department of Psychiatry, Harvard Medical School, and maintains a clinical practice in Needham, Mass. From Generations Summer 2004 issue, 28(2): 62-63. © 2004 American Society on Aging
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