Last Sunday, I went to the funeral of one of my neighbor’s mother who had passed away on Saturday. I was too lazy to go, but my mum begged me to accompany her so I went along. I could say no, but my heart said, ‘Go, you will learn a new thing there.’
There were only a few people at the funeral, mostly the family of the one who passed away, friends and acquaintances, neighbors, but not that many, less than 20 people. I got chill when I enter the room, there was a coffin in the middle of the room. I never went to a funeral before, and I was really snervous (scared and nervous).
As we began to pray, there were a few people who were being so loud at the back of the room. I was distracted and annoyed because they didn’t respect one of their family member who passed away. My mum got angry, went up to them and told them to keep quiet while we were praying and then went back to her prayer.
I was deep in my thoughts. I realize something. Everyone in that room, other than my mum and me, looked normal. like they didn’t look sad or they didn’t grieve. They looked so normal as if nothing happens, and there were only a few of them, like they came to that place reluctantly. Maybe someone forced them or something, I don’t know.
I began to get anxious. What if I died? Will my friends come to my funeral? Because I don’t think I have friends that many and maybe some of them are fake friends. Who will tell my story after I died? Will people around me be sad or happy?
I cried, I got anxious. My mum had to escorted me out of the morgue so I could calm myself down. She left me outside, leaving me with my thoughts again.
The whole experience suddenly reminds me of the closing song for Hamilton the Musical: Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story. The song is about what happened after Alexander Hamilton, one of the founding fathers of America died after a duel with Aaron Burr.
For Hamilton, the whole story from the beginning until the end is told by Eliza Schuyler (or Hamilton). She’s the one who tell Hamilton’s lifestory. But there’s this one part of the song and she sang: ‘But when my time is up, have I done enough? Will they tell my story?’
All of this has gotten me thinking about important legacies. Mother Theresa left a legacy of love. She fed and loved orphans like Christ, much like Eliza Hamilton did. George Washington left a legacy of being an amazing leader, Hitler left a legacy, so did Osama Bin Laden. Legacies aren’t always positive, it’s how you’re remembered, and sometimes, it’s negative. (One of the lyrics in “Hamilton” is “History Has Its Eyes On You”. This is true for all people.)
How will I be remembered?
I asked my best friend what she would say at my funeral if I died. She probably knows me better than I know myself and her response was “There are some people who walk into your life and just sort of stick themselves there and refuse to leave. Pris was one of those people, and I’m thankful. We could play off each other’s energy really well and we were always there for each other.” etc etc.
Apparently, I’ll be leaving a good legacy with her, but (echoing Eliza’s plea) will it be enough? Will she tell my story? If I manage to become the actress I dream of being, how will I use that fame? Will I be remembered as a wannabe or a superstar? The one everyone wanted to work with or the diva that everyone secretly hated?
I want people to remember me as someone who actually make changes. I want people to pass on stories about me, about how I made the changes and how I did good things and acts of kindness.
Let me know in the comments below, what legacy do you want to leave? If you can’t think of anything, ask your friends what they would say at your funeral. And if you don’t like the answers, may I encourage you to start now and leave your mark on history! History has its eyes on you! *Hamilton’s reference*
Okay, see you on the next post!