Do Not Memorialize My Death
A young mother was gunned down a few blocks from my house and the corner has become a shrine. Yet when I pass the fading flowers I wonder about the beauty of her life, for this only reminds me of her terrible murder and so I say:
Do not memorialize my death,
however I may die. Rather, spread
dog treats through the park
where I walked Zuzu daily
and laughed at the playful hounds
in the off-leash area.
Go to the local fabric store and tuck
$10 bills deep into the bolts of
quilters cottons with a note attached
describing how much I enjoyed
designing and piecing quilts.
Visit Powell’s book store, buy dozens
of obscure used books, inscribe in them
my love for reading, then drive around
the neighborhoods leaving them
in the Little Free Library boxes.
Look up all of my caregivers: the gentle
dentist who fixed my teeth; the kind
optometrist who helped me see clearly;
the concerned family doctor who consoled me
as I whined about the process of aging.
Find the counselors who salved my emotional
scars; the phlebotomist who gently drew
my blood for testing; the podiatrist who
gave me cushiony inserts for my shoes
the patient nurses and appointment-setters.
Scout out the teachers and professors
who fostered my desire to learn, while
holding back their frustration with
my obstinance, and opened my eyes to
possibilities I could only imagine.
Take each of them a bouquet of fragrant flowers,
extend my apologies to them for not
having done this while I was alive, tell
them I had every intention of thanking them
for their benevolence.
Find my old friends and let them know
I always loved them, even if we had
a falling out, and tell them I treasured every
moment of our friendship, let them know
my life was enriched because of them.
And if you choose to have a gathering in my
honor, empty my fattest piggy bank, use it
to collect donations for the high school
senior essay scholarship fund, be sure to
donate some to organizations HGP* supports.
Take some of the fans from the collection in
my bedroom to decorate the walls,
make it a festive affair! Dance! Sing!
Read poetry! Better yet, WRITE poetry!
Play call-and-response rhyming games!
Hand everyone a package of wildflower seeds,
and ask each to spread them in a field, or along
the highway, as I believed there are never
enough flowers, that we all need to be
spreading more beauty.
And be sure to sing lots of Beatles’ songs!
Begin with In My Life because it says exactly
how I feel about everyone I was privileged
to encounter, and then end with
She’s Leaving Home and Free As A Bird,
because that’s what I will be!
Naida Lavon
July 2021
*Humanists of Greater Portland