Wear your seatbelts, people!
Apr. 9th, 2006 11:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mysidOn Tuesday, down near Orlando, FL, a car and a SUV collided. Both drivers were wearing their seatbelts; both drivers walked away from the crash with minor injuries. However, the passenger in the SUV, my cousin's husband, wasn't wearing his seatbelt.
I went to his funeral yesterday--and it was the funniest funeral I've ever attended. Yes, people, I said funniest. Peter was larger than life (both physically and metaphorically) and was always laughing and joking. Everyone seemed to agree that the proper way to send him off was by telling their favorite "Peter stories." We laughed throughout both the funeral and the gathering after.
His niece told how he taught her and her brother how to blow spitballs while they were in a restaurant, and she promised us that Peter's spitball is still stuck to the ceiling. His AA sponsor mimicked Peter trying to button a jacket that didn't quite fit around his ample belly. Then he told us how Peter's three favorite topics of conversation were his three children. A teenager from Peter's hometown told how, after he was in a very, very, serious car accident, it was Peter, who barely knew him, who became one of his biggest sources of support throughout his recovery. And his wife told "the donkey story."
She said, "For our honeymoon, Peter and I went to Greece. The island of Santorini is a beautiful island with white cliffs. You've probably seen it in tourism ads. To get to the top of the cliffs, there's a winding path--covered with donkey poop. You can walk up, or you can take a donkey. I got on my donkey* , but Peter said that his donkey took one look at him and its knees nearly buckled. But Peter got on, and we started up the path. Every time I looked back, Peter's donkey seemed farther and farther behind. Peter said that it was wheezing and sweating and gasping for air. Finally we got to the top of the cliffs, and-- Do you want Peter's version or mine?"--"Peter's!"--"OK, Peter got off his donkey, and they took it off to the side, and THEY HAD TO SHOOT IT! I married a donkey killer!"
*She's tall and model-thin.
Two lessons to be learned, my friends. Live your life so that people will have favorite stories to tell about you, and WEAR YOUR SEATBELT!
I went to his funeral yesterday--and it was the funniest funeral I've ever attended. Yes, people, I said funniest. Peter was larger than life (both physically and metaphorically) and was always laughing and joking. Everyone seemed to agree that the proper way to send him off was by telling their favorite "Peter stories." We laughed throughout both the funeral and the gathering after.
His niece told how he taught her and her brother how to blow spitballs while they were in a restaurant, and she promised us that Peter's spitball is still stuck to the ceiling. His AA sponsor mimicked Peter trying to button a jacket that didn't quite fit around his ample belly. Then he told us how Peter's three favorite topics of conversation were his three children. A teenager from Peter's hometown told how, after he was in a very, very, serious car accident, it was Peter, who barely knew him, who became one of his biggest sources of support throughout his recovery. And his wife told "the donkey story."
She said, "For our honeymoon, Peter and I went to Greece. The island of Santorini is a beautiful island with white cliffs. You've probably seen it in tourism ads. To get to the top of the cliffs, there's a winding path--covered with donkey poop. You can walk up, or you can take a donkey. I got on my donkey
*She's tall and model-thin.
Two lessons to be learned, my friends. Live your life so that people will have favorite stories to tell about you, and WEAR YOUR SEATBELT!
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(no subject)
Date: 2006-04-10 10:20 am (UTC)Sorry about Peter - he must have been a truly fantastic person.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-04-10 10:24 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-04-10 10:21 am (UTC)I always hope that when I have a funeral it would be like that. No people who don't know me pretending they care, just good friends sharing happy times.