Famous Last Words

Most people who have lost someone close to them replay their last moments together over and over in their mind. Sometimes it's in a favorable way, thankful for the chance to say all they needed to say to each other. The survivor may be grateful they were able to care for them, or settle differences before the death. Some relationships are never fully appreciated by either party until death is imminent. The "now or never" aspect casts a new, urgent light on what matters most, and priorities become clear.

Other times we think of everything we did wrong, they did wrong, or what we wish we could change. Often when death is unexpected, comments considered mundane at the time can turn out to be their much-repeated "last words". Those of us left behind can easily read too much into them, and imbue them with importance far beyond the truth. This kind of thinking can torture us.

If I were able to choose, I would like to die like my father-in-law. He had time to wind down, plan and prepare, and then ultimately call everyone to his bedside to say what he wanted to say. Hospice assisted his wife and children as they kept him at home, until he went Home. He was fully present, and spoke to his family, (often asking to speak with one grandchild at a time), neighbors and co-workers with both grace and humor. It was beautiful. He asked for a taste of ice cream, a favorite hymn to be sung, and for one last shave before slipping away late one night.

The problem with this, of course, is we don't get to choose. The obvious solution is to live each day as if it was our last. Can you imagine, though? What if everyone you saw hugged you goodbye as if they would die that night? What if every phone conversation took an hour because of all the "one last thing"s that needed to be said? It's not possible to live that way.

I suppose acceptance is the only answer. What's the alternative, anyway? If we are to live fully, we have to let go. Let go of regrets, what ifs, fears, and yes, even those endless replays of our loved ones' last moments. It's easy (and understandable) to see our lives through the filter of how it would be had they not died, but it robs us of the joy we could be experiencing.

This is your new normal. It's permanently different, and it's not fair, but it's your life. How you live it is up to you. There's a freedom in feeling grateful for the person you loved, but being able to move forward anyway.

I'll leave you with the last words of Karl Marx, to his housekeeper who sat by his bed waiting to write them down for posterity-

"Go on, get out! Last words are for fools who haven't said enough."

Article For Funeral News

www.quotefuneral.com/susan-boyle-chooses-her-own-funeral-song-102

Susan Boyle Chooses Her Own Funeral Song

Although only 49, Scottish singer Susan Boyle has revealed the song she would like to have played at her funeral one day. "It would have to be 'Nellie the Elephant'. She packed her trunk and said goodbye to the circus. 
You've got to leave them laughing. Funerals don't have to be sad. Peter Sellers made them smile with 'In the Mood' ' so I could do it with 'Nellie the Elephant'."

Boyle went on to say she would like to make the congregation laugh at her funeral when she passes away and thinks the children's novelty track would be the perfect choice to make mourners smile.
Boyle shot to fame last year when her appearance on Britain’s Got Talent became an internet sensation. She later went on to win the competition and release a number one CD, I Dreamed a Dream.

More and more celebrities are reportedly planning aspects of their own funerals, or even the entire ceremony. Actress Brittany Murphy’s husband Simon Monjack died in May 2010, just five months after her unexpected death. He pre-arranged his burial site to be next to his late wife at Forest Lawn in Los Angeles. Music at the service included a recording of Monjack playing piano while Murphy sang.

Reality star Jade Goody began planning her funeral as her cancer worsened. She died in 2009, at the age of 27.

It’s not just for the famous. Many funeral planners report an increase in this type of personal planning. Some clients choose the music they would like played, while others pre-arrange everything about the service from the flowers to the casket to the family’s thank you notes to be sent out afterward.

This growing trend is reflected in the many online sites designed to help people plan their own funerals. It doesn’t have to be morbid. Many of these sites cater to baby boomers who have a sense of humor about the process, and want to keep it light. This is apparent by their slogans. www.mywonderfullife.com reminds us, “You only get one chance to make a last impression”, and at www.myfunkyfuneral.com, they claim to “put the fun back in funeral”.

-Alicia King

Author of Sorry For Your Loss: What People Who Are Grieving Wish You Knew

First Review!!

The following just in from Holly Gleason, a social critic, songwriter, pop commentator and music critic whose work has appeared in ROLLING STONE, THE LA TIMES, CREEM, PLAYBOY, THE OXFORD AMERICAN, NO DEPRESSION, HARP, PASTE, THE NY TIMES, HUFFINGTON POST and INTERVIEW, to name a few.

"Grief is so singular, not just to the person, but the individual death, knowing the right thing to do confuses, overwhelms and sometimes even drives those who care away. Alicia King is no stranger to the disorienting pain of losing people she loves -- and that empathy informs a concise, clear how-to book for anyone trying to help someone else cope with a major loss.

"Stressing how different each case is, practical in both adapatability suggestions and insight into the varying forms of grief, Sorry For Your Loss: What People Who Are Grieving Wish You Knew will increase comfort and even more importantly, greatly reduce missteps, faux pas and the awkward feeling of not knowing what to do."
-- Holly Gleason
The Yummy List

www.theyummylist.com

Good News, Bad News

I got a song idea while in the shower yesterday and ran downstairs in a towel to grab my guitar. As I hit the final landing, I saw the UPS guy walk up to my porch. (We have window panels that run the length of the front door on both sides.) I immediately turned and ran back up, but it was too late. There was eye contact. Now, you should know I had a huge towel wrapped around me, but still. Awkward. What are the chances musical inspiration would strike right as Mr. What-Can-Brown-Do-For-You arrived?

Obviously, this was the bad news. The good news is what was in the package! The sharp and hard-working (while impossibly young and pretty) Laura Morris (Publicity and Mktg Mgr for Turner Pub) had sent a few advance copies of the book! Like galleys, only bound and same format as the book, they are used to generate interest and for review purposes.

Sure, the title will be different in the final product, but this was tangible proof. It's happening. It's coming out. Maybe people will buy it, read it, talk about it. Talk about grief, and how we can better support each other through it. Exactly what I've been hoping for and working toward.

That just sounds like a big bunch of good news.

P.S. I now keep my guitar upstairs.

None-Too-Subtle Signs

Given the subject matter, it's understandable that my parents have been on my mind more than usual while writing this book. As I write about the grief experiences of others, I often notice similarities to my own. It happens when someone tells me their loved one died without saying goodbye, when I read about people seeing their deceased mother's influence in their own parenting, or when hoping for a sign from the person they've lost. I have to admit, I have asked for this in the past.

Shortly before moving to Nashville, I attended a Steve Seskin songwriting workshop in Reno. I stopped at a diner to eat before it started. My dad had always been very supportive of my music, and I consciously asked him, (he had just died), to let me know he saw I was getting to study with Seskin. I got a SF newspaper on the way in and began to read it once I was seated. To my delight, I went right to a column by Jon Carroll. (My parents were Jon and Carol King!) The subject of the piece was the area where I was born. "Well done, Dad", I thought as I left. Before I could get out the door, however, the manager stopped me to ask how I liked my food. I said, "It was great, thanks." It was only then I noticed his name tag. JON. Spelled without an H and everything. Nice touch.

Another nod from the beyond came last week as I tended to the final details of the book. I needed to secure permission to reprint the lyrics to a song I wrote with Candy Cameron about grief. Candy's publisher would have to grant us permission within a few days, and require no payment. Considering this usually takes months and can cost a tidy sum, my odds weren't great. Still, I had my editor's blessing to give it a shot. "It can't hurt", he said.

After a few phone calls and emails, I was directed to the person in Beverly Hills who handled such requests. Her name? CAROL KING. I'm not kidding. Once again, correct spelling and everything.

Yesterday Carol called to tell me she was granting our request- in record time and at no cost. She also told me how much she misses her parents and wished me luck with the book.

Coincidence? Who knows? I wasn't looking for any validation from my mom when this happened. I couldn't have interpreted this a certain way, to fit my hope or expectation. It's the woman's name! Did all this thinking about her make me more likely to notice her name, or did it allow her to come through? Obviously, I don't have all the answers, but I'm open to the possibilities.

I do know one thing for sure. I know how good it feels when these things happen, and that's real.

Guess What I saw Yesterday?

I dropped by my publisher's offices yesterday to meet with my editor. ("My" publisher, "my" editor. I've become insufferable.) Before I left, the brilliant Steven Cox told me they were working on my cover today and asked if I'd like to see it. Let me see....YES, PLEASE!

I can't describe all the feelings it brought up, seeing this actually happen, but I'm happy to say I neither cried, fainted, nor hugged poor Steven. I called Dan from the parking garage, though. You know, my husband? The man who lives in the emotional-medium? He rarely expresses or demonstrates anything "very". He is my even-tempered opposite, which made his excitement on the phone all the sweeter.

Wednesday may have been my birthday, but yesterday was "my" day.

PRIZE! PRIZE! PRIZE!!!

As I get closer to the book being released, I see the hit counter nearing 3000, with 29 followers. Here's what I propose- since it's difficult to determine who is the 3,000th visitor, I will recognize the next follower instead.

The 30th follower here will win a signed copy of the book. I'll even cover postage. (I know what you're thinking. She's out of control!) I was going to give away a pony, but shipping was such a hassle, and then there were liability issues, etc....

So, if you haven't followed yet, click it!

Good luck!