The Eulogy I Write For Myself

Today we are gathered here to say goodbye to a version of me that has since taken its last breath. We are here to remember what was, and to thoughtfully question what is to come. 

People often told me that I was fearless. But I was never fearless. I lived most of my life really really afraid. I often compared myself to Aunt Josephine from Lemony Snicket’s, A Series of Unfortunate Events. You may laugh, but this is no joke. I was so scared of being myself that I chose to avoid the hard work of what lay before me. I naively believed that if I could just keep the secret of what happened to me, eventually the weight of my trauma would get lighter. However, the opposite happened. The secret chased me and destiny found me, time and time again. 

As I lay here, lifeless before you, I wonder - do you recognize me? I imagine my frail body and all I see is the shame that destroyed me, the anger I struggled to let go of, and the fear that controlled my life. As I reminisce about my life with all of you, I question with greater curiosity, how could anyone have loved a human so consumed with so much agony and heartache. What was so great within me that I deserved your love when I couldn’t even make my parents love me? 

I would like to think it was my divine love for all human beings - despite right and wrong I found a reason to love everybody. I didn’t see the fault in them, but instead, I found it in myself - but, that part you probably didn’t know. So much I left unsaid.

My story was never going to be an easy one to share. Not for you to read, and not for me to tell. I cried for myself the first time I wrote it all down. I had never before discussed the details of what happened to that extent, not with another person and not even to myself. At least, not out loud. It was at this moment that I knew, that I would not survive. 

As I move on to the next life, I leave a message for the little girl trapped in that room. 

You are going to make it. You will shake up the world and you will change lives. Your parents love you, even when they lacked the ability to show it in the way you wanted to see it. You will grow up remembering the Nirvana concerts in the dining room, the first time you tried a peanut butter and honey sandwich, and you will forever chase your spirituality.

One of the deepest pains you will experience will be when you think of his laugh. You will vividly remember his smile and feel that pain in your chest anytime you think back to what was good. You will have to accept that some pieces of his identity are wrapped up in your own. That’s okay though because rock music will be healing for you in your darkest moments, honey sandwiches truly are the best treat, and you will question the supernatural in ways that connect your sense of being to your soul. That is the way it is supposed to be. 

The world will tell you it’s not okay. The world will ask you, unknowingly, to stay trapped in hate and fear because it is familiar. The world will make you feel embarrassed, but you little one will be so much more than what they say. You will be the change they need to see, you will be a light to others that don’t yet know how to speak up.

You leave this world one day, but only to Valhalla - because your soul is that of a warrior, and you were never meant to live afraid.