Eulogies tend to be the most painfully honest and cathartic monologue people submit themselves to in their lives. They look at their dead friend or family member, take a deep breath, and then let it all out; the stories, the mistakes, the laughs, the adventures, and how they really, truly felt about that person in retrospect. And it always comes down to them wishing they had one chance - just one last chance - to tell that person the truth of it all.
But they can't now. The person they love is now dead, unable to appreciate the kind words the rest of us held back our entire lives but have now gathered to admit outloud in droves. And so a few poignant mementos and inaudible well-wishes serve as a comforting compromise for the living. The peace of mind is a one-sided affair.
Why do we wait until there's no consequence to finally tell someone the truth? For all of our misgivings and faults and moments of reservations of opinions deep down when someone is alive, isn't waiting until it's easy the most cowardly act of all?
So I'm thinking about starting a series for my blog called "Eulogies". Each entry is going to be about a certain friend or family member or loved one (past or present), and in each one I'm going to spill my guts and write a eulogy for them as if they had died. The good, the bad, the agonizing truths I don't want to admit to myself... all of it. I'll close my eyes, lean back, and imagine myself standing over their coffin or urn during the service, turning to their crowd of loved ones all donned in black, breathe, and then write what surfaces to my fingers.
I might even need to use the entry itself one day.
People deserve to be let in on the axioms of your relationship before their story ends. Because if you can't be brave at least once when they were alive, what good is your courage when they're dead and gone?