As I have said countless of times in this blog, I want to be a great writer. When I die though, I don’t want people to talk about my achievements, but I want people to tell stories about how I lived. As much as I love writing, and it is a big part of me, I find that there’s something cold about discussing a person’s achievements at a funeral.
I want to be remembered for the way I laughed. I want my cousin to tell a funny story about how I tripped over a slosh of sago. I want a friend to recall our crazy adventures walking around Quiapo. I want a lover to tearfully describe our first kiss.
Everyone who will speak at my funeral will be required to tell a specific story about how I lived. No statements about how “She was a nice person” or “She was a good friend”. Instead, they should tell a story about how I showed kindness, or how I helped them get through a problem.
That will be my dying wish.
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