Memento Mori

Friday, May 10, 2019, I attended a family funeral.  This funeral was significant for me in that, for 99% of the paternal side of my family, it was the first time they met Sophie.  But this column isn’t about all that, not really.  I wrote about those meetings, etc, on my blog HERE.

On a couple of side tables, were some of the deceased person’s things — items that were emblematic of his life.  His favorite hat was in the casket with him.  The table had a fishing pole, his fire helmet (he was a volunteer,) some favored clothing, and other items that I assume he held dear.

I’d written about a similar topic years ago — what happens to our “stuff” after we die.  Most of it will be tossed in a dumpster, unless an item has some value.  And that makes sense.

Driving home, I couldn’t help but wonder… if my loved ones had to make a table of items to represent me, what would they be?  Interesting thought exercise.

I guess that comes down to what my friends think I think is important, combined with things that remind them of me.  So… what would they be.

I would assume that among the things they’d select would be a Penn State object, and of those, I’d guess it would be the award I won at my masters degree graduation.  It’s a small replica of the Nittany Lion.  Or maybe one of my many PSU t-shirts.

I would also guess that there’d be something science fiction related — specifically Star Trek or Star Wars.  Perhaps my Original Series uniform dress.  Or the Star Trek earrings.

Something gaming related would probably appear — probably Dungeons and Dragons related.  I’d guess one of the pieces I edited, or my dice bag.  Or some miniatures I painted.

From there, it gets fuzzy, and dependent upon who “assembled” the display.  You see, even though I’m now legally female, with my birth certificate and name changed… is that how I will be remembered?  My Wife knows I wish to be cremated.  What name would be on the urn?  If laid out for a viewing, who would be represented in that casket?  Him or her?  I remember my dear Sister Lisa Emapanda’s funeral, where she was laid out as him: Tom.  I’d never met Tom.  To me, Tom didn’t exist; only Lisa did.  I understand why her widow chose that path.  I hope it’s not the way chosen for me.

In fact, I don’t want a funeral.  I want a party — a wake.  A costume party wake.  Dress as your favorite Sophie memory or something.  Put my urn on a table so my mortal remains will be there.  But, that strays from the point.

Would my rescue squad helmet be there?  Some books I love?  Again, it’s not up to me, is it?  It’s the choices of those I will leave behind.  After all, I won’t be there when it happens.

In any case, it made for an interesting ride home.  Maybe I’ll ask about it on Facialbook.  Or not.

Be well.

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Tags: featured, Identity, Transgender, Transition

Category: Transgender Body & Soul