A few weeks ago, I was catching up with my friend Liz about her summer vacation and this discussion led to the most interesting revelation. Here’s the backstory: Liz’s family plus her brother, sister-in-law and nephew began their trip in Dublin where, following her Dad’s directions, they spread his ashes in the River Liffey. She spoke about the trip with so much appreciation and love for how her dad’s family hosted and embraced them and how special it was for her and her brother to be there surrounded by loved ones as they fulfilled her dad’s wishes.
Liz and I are among four of our friends in our college group who lost their dads in the last year. As our squad of friends settles into middle age, conversations that were once dominated by updates about our kids are now half about our kids and half about the health and welfare of our parents. We trade information about how the surviving spouse is doing, what IT help was needed recently, the pros and cons of assisted living, and how to convince someone to get a hearing test (is that oddly specific? Maybe it’s a hint for someone in LA.)
Years before he had any serious ailments, Liz’s dad wrote an email to her and her brother and provided a short list of how he wanted things to go upon his passing. His letter included information about his healthcare directive, where he purchased burial plots, his desire to be cremated, what to do with his ashes, and where to post obituaries. It gave Liz comfort to know what he wanted rather than attempt to guess what he wanted while grieving his loss.
Sorry to get so dark in what is normally a light-hearted space. The real reason for this background information is that Liz, while discussing the trip to Ireland, revealed that she had already written down her wishes for when her time comes. Taking a cue from her dad, Liz created a detailed 5-page document outlining her vision for her service, reception, and obituary. Some additional detail that will help you understand why her writing all of this down was both on brand and shocking at the same time: Liz has always been and will forever be the social chair of our group. She is an organizer, has gazillions of friends, and brings tons of energy to every social gathering. She is not sick and has no reason to be concerned about her health. She just wants to plan the party she won’t attend – because if it’s her party, it better be really, really fun.
The specifics in this document are impressive. I won’t give it all away but some of the highlights are:
* Preferred theme and colors for her memorial mass – she wants “pops of color,” especially her favorites orange and green, as well as her favorite sunflowers.
* A list of people she would like to speak and be pseudo pallbearers at the memorial (My husband is on that list but only as an alternate and he is already lobbying for a promotion.)
* Eight different locations where she would like her ashes spread.
* Potential venues, catering options (including links to food trucks), specific drinks, and a comprehensive playlist (35 songs!) for her celebration of life.
* 26 bullet points about her that could be helpful in writing her obituary and a photo of a published obituary to use as inspo.
* Additionally, she told me, “I have lately been ruminating on what outfit to be cremated in and what to include with my body (for example, with my dad, we included family photos, a hand written note, some Irish, American and UCLA memorabilia, his favorite poem, and fruit from his garden). I had no idea this was even an option – to be cremated with stuff – and putting it together was so sad but also cathartic in a way.”
While we were discussing “Liz Funeral/Celebration of Life Plans as of July 2025”, our friend Aaron looked at his wife and said, “I don’t need to write one of these – sign me up for whatever you do” and she gave him a look that said they would be discussing this another time. My husband announced that he would like to be cremated and have his ashes placed on my nightstand as a reminder of what a perfect husband he was and to make me feel bad should I ever decide to date again. He was trying to be funny but he was also intent on imposing future guilt should I outlive him.
I was very shocked that Liz had thought through her own funeral and written it all down . I support her 100% in this endeavor and eventually plan to write down my wishes as well. I know how awful it would be if something happened to me and no one knew what I wanted. I have always assumed that my family and close friends know me well enough to know exactly what I would want even though I currently have no idea and I bet that is how most people feel. Or, that’s how we all justify not doing something that brings up a whole lot of discomfort.
After losing my dad last September, I can very much relate to what prompted Liz to write all of this down. As my father’s dementia progressed, my step mother, aunt and I tried to make decisions for him based on what we each thought he would want, what we would want for ourselves, and what seemed best from our limited options. I would have felt so much better if my dad had left some specifics besides wanting to be cremated. It would have been so meaningful to me if he had provided some guidance and, even better, some parting thoughts or favorite memories. In my early twenties, he famously told me that “you don’t know yourself until your thirties” and I have quoted him many, many times over the last 30 years. I wish I had a few more of those gems to guide me through middle age.
As of today, I am adding “google doc for funeral” to my longer term to do list (not on my short term to do list yet). I will probably follow Liz’s format and list my requests for my funeral, celebration of life and obituary and then add a list of who I want to have my jewelry and favorite clothes. Since I started ruminating on this concept, I decided that I want to include a list of things I was right about, a list of things I may have been wrong about, things I wish I had done but chickened out of and some future dating guidelines for my husband. Like Liz and for anyone who is taking notes, I want any gathering in my honor to be a true celebration, with lots of music, tons of appetizers, desserts and a well-delivered toast with Malibu Rum and Fresca!


5 responses to “write your wishes: sunflowers and pops of color”
Love this post! Many years ago, my mom published a workbook on this topic. She became obsessed with people preparing their families for this inevitability. So, when she was diagnosed with terminal metastatic breast cancer 4 years ago, she went through her workbook and made some edits (primarily revisions to who she wanted at her funeral and who she did not!). She proceeded to go into great detail about the order of the speakers, what she hoped they would say, etc. She actually wanted to “approve” my Eulogy (ever the English teacher) but I convinced her that was crossing a line and that I could not possibly write the Eulogy before she passed. She wanted us to play Adele’s “Hello” as people entered the church as if she were greeting them (we did not), but her dark humor was present throughout parts of the service and celebration of life. In the end, it was such a relief to know exactly what she wanted so we weren’t second guessing ourselves! Such an important topic! Thank you, Liz and Denise!
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Such a helpful topic! There are several funerals I have been a part of that had a lot of drama as different family members argued about the deceased person would have wanted. In some cases, permanent rifts endure. So writing your wishes saves your family stress in the end.
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What a thought provoking topic, and yes a bit of an uncomfortable one. Once again your words will nibble at my brain.
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This is so great, Denise. When my Mom passed in 2014, we made thank you notes to send to everyone who send condolences or flowers or whatever, and on the cover of the note was a great photo of my Mom in a classic “let me tell you something” pose with all her “words of wisdom”. I still have the card today and it makes me so happy.
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Oh Denise -you have nailed it once again. I think your post will inspire a lot of people. Not me- not quite ready to put together the celebration of life google doc. But now that I’ve seen your beautiful new closet can I log first dibs on a few items? Maybe I should come over and try things on just to be sure I’ve made the right choice. Or I could take things for a trial run while you are in NYC just to confirm my selections are the best fit. Hugs to you and I know the anniversary of your dad’s passing coming up will be an emotional time – sending 💕
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