Eulogies

I’ve been thinking a lot about eulogies. You know, the generous words of loved ones that stitch together a story of a life once it has ceased to exist in our shared human form.

A week or so ago, in response to an essay-type reflection I shared on social media, a friend commented “I think Kris should write all of our eulogies!” Another friend quickly suggested I do that “in haiku form” (which is another way I often share my thoughts and observations). I took both comments as high compliments. And while those comments may seem morbid, funny, strange or all three, they have been sticking in my head ever since I read them.

Haiku is short form poetry delivered in 17 syllables: a line of five syllables, a line of seven syllables, and then five more syllables. Although I tend to be an overly-wordy sort, I enjoy the exercise and beauty of haiku poetry, because it forces the writer to choose syllables that are the most meaningful or impactful to convey a message or feeling, provoke a thought or coax a chuckle.

Haiku is word thrift.
Syllables are currency.
Try to spend wisely.

Distilling an entire human life and what another person has meant to us in 17 syllables may sound like an impossible task. But, if you try this exercise, you might find that certain key words and emotions come to the surface when you think about a particular individual in your life.

Take a moment now
to think about a dear friend.
What words come to mind?

It’s very clear to me that when I think about eulogies I have cherished reading or hearing over the years, a good one finds a way to highlight the brightest parts of a person’s humanity. It shares how the departed showed up in their life when they were the best versions of themselves — throughout their relationships, however long or short, however deep or surface.

Each of us is a translation of energy into bodily form, and while imperfect and messy, each is unique and full of opportunity to connect with others in ways that either hurt or help. We choose at every moment which path to take through our thoughts, words, and actions.

If you asked others in your life to write your eulogy, what memories might they focus on to capture the essence of who you are (or were) to them? What else would come to the surface if their eulogy for you could only be three short lines — seventeen syllables wrapped in a formulaic poem?

Our humanity
lives in the brushstrokes we choose
to paint Life’s canvas.