When I die.

Posted byWaldo Jaquith 8 Comments on When I die.

I want to have five hundred people at my wake.

I want people to come from thousands of miles around.

I want hundreds of burly men to cry like babies.

I want a wall twenty feet wide and ten feet high covered with enormous bouquets and wreaths.

I want every delivery man who brings flowers to share a story about how I changed his or his son’s life.

I want my plumber to send a wreath.

I want a caravan of hundreds of cars to snake through town, police stopping traffic at every intersection, the onlookers realizing that it must be for me.

I want the cop directing traffic in front of the funeral home to come in, swathed in bright orange, and briefly pay his respects.

I want the procession’s limo driver to bring a mass card to my widow.

I want everybody to have a story about how grateful they are that I made them who they are today.

I want four priests to all deliver the service because they can’t decide between themselves who should do it.

I want people stacked ten deep at my graveside service.

I want the region’s newspapers to report on the impact of my life and death and the TV stations to send cameras to the wake and the funeral.

I want people, in spite of it all, to enjoy themselves at the funeral.

I’ve got a model; now I need to get to work.

Published by Waldo Jaquith

Waldo Jaquith (JAKE-with) is an open government technologist who lives near Char­lottes­­ville, VA, USA. more »

8 replies on “When I die.”

  1. I’m a little less demanding.

    There will be a wake.

    And I will be buried at dusk. If possible, in the rain.

  2. This is a nice blog entry. Good job. Very sorry about your uncle. Sounds like he will be missed.

  5. Your uncle’s legacy will live on in the countless lives he has touched – directly or indirectly, on and off the ice – for many years to come. Bruce & I send our condolences for your loss.

  6. When I die, when I’m dead and gone, I just want there to be one more child, to, you know, carry on. Carry on.

  7. Waldo, I am so sorry for your loss. It sounds like the send-off was uplifting! For that, I am very glad. :-)

  8. This post made me think of one particular day in 2002.

    The only detail you left out is that the other half of the people in town pull off the road and get out of their cars when the procession goes by.

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