A friend of mine is in the hospital, fighting for her life. She is strong, and I pray that she pulls through. I have no doubt God is holding her in His loving arms right now. But a while back, she had spoken of several family members who had passed away, and had made a request: she asked several friends that when her time comes, everyone who attends her funeral must wear their most comfortable robe, PJs and slippers.
Y’all know I wouldn’t fail at honoring this request.
But it got me to thinking…. what would I want at my memorial service? I say memorial service because I wish to be cremated, at least, whatever is left after donating organs and so forth. I just want a big party with plenty of food and booze and for everyone to wear something red, and the gals to wear red lipstick, and the kids to have a petting zoo complete with goats and ponies, and maybe a llama, and a band that plays Big Band music.
Well, yes. One of my fondest memories is driving up to Hubby’s grandparents, and passing a beautiful dairy farm. The kids would get all excited and yell “COWS, MOMMA!!!” and Hubby would say, “Not cows…LLAMAS!!!” And the kids would look again, and look at him like he was an idiot, and say, “Daddy, those are cows. Llamas have long necks.” And he would say, “Llamas drink beer???” And they would just die laughing at him.
And that’s why I would want a llama. Because the best way to celebrate someone’s life is to recall fond memories. Hubby would probably say it would be easier to just dump my ashes in a river. I would be ok with that, too.
As long as there’s a llama!!!