Celebration of Life
I’m not a party guy. I generally avoid loud, crowded gatherings. Between Covid19 and just getting older, I expect I have mostly graduated from graduations and aged out of birthday parties. I don’t like funerals, but I feel honored to participate in a celebration of life for a skydiver friend. Most skydivers don’t die skydiving. They have the usual causes of death, in about the normal distribution, but with a possibility of skydiving thrown in. Skydivers come from all walks of life. Our diverse crowd really have little in common beyond our love of flying our bodies. When we get together to skydive, talk is mostly about the weather, recent jump events, or good-natured kidding of various kinds. So when we have a celebration of life for a departed friend, that’s when I often learn a lot about their life outside of jumping.
It is 2022. Queen Elizabeth died last week, and her ceremonies continue. I’m sure you heard about it. She wasn’t a jumper, but a great stuntman named Gary Connery played her in a jump for the opening of the 2012 London Olympics. He was later convicted of assault for pushing his girlfriend down the stairs in their house, and jailed for eighteen months in August 2022.
Along with the more common celebration of life gathering many people have for their departed loved ones, skydivers sometimes distribute ashes at high altitudes. Legend has it that ashes from these ash dives are carried by the upper winds of the atmosphere and eventually reach all seven continents. We may also make a formation in our friend’s honor, such as a T for Tommy, or a “missing man” formation to show our respect. I miss so many of the friends we have lost. I thought about listing some names, but the list grew too long, and I’m afraid of leaving someone out. Just flipping through all these photographs has me tearing up.
One member of our skydiving family is a professional MC and voice artist. He acted as host at the celebration of life for one of our friends. Here is a tip he passed along. By listing songs he wanted played at such an occasion, the departed made the MC’s job easier. I can’t really think of songs I want played when I’m dead, but I can say this. I like many singer-songwriters. I don’t like technopop. Okay, here’s one: It’s Your World Now, by Eagles.
When I die, my wish is for my jumping friends at Skydive Perris to release my ashes in an ash dive. If Kathryn dies before me, I will have some of her ashes at home, to be released with mine. Whether there is a celebration of life is up to whoever organizes the jump. If there is one, please make this known:
I am not a believer. I did not find religion shortly before my death. I did not make peace with God. I don’t even know what that means. I have not gone to a better place. I don’t believe we come back or have any kind of afterlife. If anyone tries to use my memorial as an occasion to lie about my beliefs, or to proselytize for their own, they are, in my opinion, the lowest form of scoundrel. I may be wrong about this, but if you want to show respect for me at my memorial, don’t engage in this kind of bullshit, and don’t stand quietly by while others disrespect me.
How does all this relate to whole food, plant-based eating? Admittedly, not very much. But try to see it from my I point of view. Celebrations of life often have some kind of food service, sometimes even an open bar. There is seldom anything I can eat, unless there is a vegetable platter with some carrot and celery sticks. I don’t mind this at all, since I always expect to feed myself. Still, it’s a missed opportunity to learn and improve. If we lose a friend who smoked heavily to lung cancer, would we ask those who miss her to light up a cigarette in her honor? Why, when we lose a friend to a heart attack or stroke, do we serve at their celebration the kind of food that tends to give us heart attacks and strokes?
Please keep yourselves alive long enough and healthy enough to delay your celebration of life until your life is as complete as you can make it.
