Would You Want to Attend Your Own Funeral?
Imagine sitting in the front row at a funeral, not one for a family member or close friend, but at your own. Your friends and family are gathered around you, sharing stories, maybe shedding a few tears and occasionally laughing at something you did twenty years ago that you had hoped everyone had forgotten. Someone stands up to deliver your eulogy, describing your personality, your achievements, your, let's politely call them, "peculiar" habits and the difference you made to the people around you. You hear things that make you smile, probably others that make you wince, and perhaps a few that leave you wondering whether they have mistaken you for somebody else.
If that was possible, how do you think you'd feel? Would you be fascinated? Horrified? Secretly delighted? Or would you spend the entire occasion worrying about how drunk people might get at the wake?
I know it sounds like the premise of a slightly dark comedy, but the question of whether we should attend our own funeral is more interesting than it first appears.
For me, beneath the humour lies a serious question about death, remembrance and the things we leave unsaid. As a eulogy writer, I spend a great deal of time helping people find the words to describe someone who has died, but someone I never knew personally. Despite that, increasingly I find myself writing and wondering whether some of those words might be even more valuable if they were spoken while the person was still alive to hear them. With that in mind, I thought I'd explore it in a little more detail in this post, so let's try and help answer the question: if it were possible... would YOU want to attend your own funeral?
Would You Want to Attend Your Own Funeral?
The Problem With Attending Your Own Funeral
Let's start with the practical and obvious difficulties. For a traditional funeral, being present in person would rather defeat the purpose. Unless we are prepared to embrace some particularly ambitious time-travel shenanigans, we must accept that attending our own funeral in the conventional sense is unlikely to be an option.
But, for the moment, suppose it were possible. Would you want to know what people really thought of you?
There is something undeniably appealing about hearing your friends describe your best qualities, discovering which memories they treasure most and finding out that an apparently insignificant act of kindness made a lasting difference to somebody's life.
A lot of us probably spend some of our time wondering whether we matter to other people, so that the opportunity to find out might be irresistible. Of course, there is another side to the equation.
Imagine listening to your old Uni friend explain that you were a terrible driver or never bought a round of drinks, hearing your brother reveal the story you thought the family had agreed never to mention again, or discovering that your supposedly legendary sense of humour was endured rather than appreciated.
A funeral is rarely an entirely unfiltered account of someone's life, but even a carefully constructed eulogy can reveal things we might not expect. People remember different versions of us, and those versions don't always fit neatly together.
Perhaps the most uncomfortable possibility is that you might hear nothing at all that surprises you. What if the people around you were simply repeating the same familiar bland descriptions you have heard throughout your life or could be applied to anyone? Would that be reassuring, or would you wonder whether anyone had ever really looked beneath the surface?
And what about the people who did not attend? Would you notice their absence? Would you feel hurt? The hypothetical experience could become less of a celebration and more of an exercise in rediscovering every insecurity you have ever possessed.
On balance, perhaps we should be grateful that we cannot sit through our own funerals. Although, if you could arrange the seating plan, choose the speakers and veto the embarrassing anecdotes, the idea might become considerably more attractive.
Why Wait Until Someone Has Died to Tell Them What They Meant to You?
Behind the humour lies a question that deserves serious consideration. Why do we so often wait until someone has died before telling them how much they mattered?
At funerals, people say extraordinary things about the deceased. They describe their generosity, celebrate their courage, recall their kindness and explain how their lives were changed by knowing them. Sometimes, these tributes reveal qualities that even close family members had never fully appreciated.
As a eulogy writer, I regularly encounter stories that demonstrate how a seemingly ordinary action can have a profound and lasting effect. A teacher who offered encouragement at exactly the right moment, a neighbour who quietly helped a struggling family, or a parent who made sacrifices without ever drawing attention to them might have had no idea how deeply they were appreciated.
It is one of the privileges of writing eulogies that I get to help bring these stories into the open. I often sit at my desk and laugh at funny stories clients share and even shed a tear occasionally, as such there is something bittersweet about the process. The person at the centre of the tribute is no longer there to hear it.
Why do we find it easier to express our deepest feelings about someone when they can no longer respond?
Part of the answer may be that death provides a sense of urgency and permission. We understand that the opportunity to speak has passed, so we feel compelled to say what needs to be said. While someone is alive, we can always tell them later... or tomorrow, or next week. We may feel embarrassed, fear becoming sentimental or assume that our affection is already understood.
There is also the possibility that speaking openly about love and appreciation makes us feel vulnerable. Telling someone that they changed your life requires a degree of honesty that everyday conversation does not always encourage.
Yet the consequences of silence can be significant. We may spend years assuming that someone knows how we feel, only to discover that they had been quietly wondering whether they mattered.
Perhaps one of the most valuable things we could learn from funerals is not how to deliver a better tribute after someone dies, but how to express our appreciation before it is too late.
Living Eulogies: Giving People Their Flowers While They Can Smell Them
The idea of a living eulogy takes this principle and turns it into something tangible. Rather than waiting until a person has died to celebrate their life, a living eulogy offers an opportunity to honour them while they are still here.
It might take the form of a speech at a birthday celebration, a gathering of friends and family, a written tribute, or a more intimate conversation in which people share their favourite memories and explain what the individual means to them. It can even be written by you in advance of your own passing, so you at least get the final say in how you're remembered.
Some people choose to organise a living eulogy around a significant birthday or retirement. Others use it to mark a milestone, recognise a personal achievement or simply bring together the people who have played an important role in someone's life.
The beauty of the concept is that the person being celebrated can participate. They can laugh at the stories, correct the details, offer their own recollections and respond to the affection expressed towards them. They can ask questions, thank people and perhaps even discover that their influence extends much further than they imagined.
For me, there is something wonderfully democratic about this approach to remembrance. It does not require someone to be famous, wealthy or particularly accomplished. It simply recognises that ordinary lives can have extraordinary significance.
Of course, a living eulogy need not resemble a formal funeral speech. It can be informal, humorous and personal. It might include a collection of letters from friends, photographs from different stages of life or stories that have never previously been shared.
The important thing is that it should feel authentic to the person being celebrated.
Not everyone would welcome a room full of people explaining their virtues, and some would find the experience unbearably awkward. For those who dislike fuss (myself inclided), a quiet conversation or a heartfelt letter might be more meaningful than a large gathering.
Nevertheless, the principle is worth considering: if someone has made a difference to your life, why should you wait until their death to tell them?
Living Funerals: A Different Perspective on Saying Goodbye
Living eulogies are closely related to the idea of a living funeral, although the two concepts are not quite the same.
Living funerals are gatherings held while a person is still alive, allowing them to experience something of the farewell, remembrance and celebration that would ordinarily take place after their death. They are recognised in various forms internationally, although traditions, terminology and the circumstances in which they take place differ between cultures.
In some settings, these gatherings may be associated with serious illness or an awareness that death is approaching. In others, they may be framed more broadly as an opportunity to celebrate life, express gratitude and bring loved ones together.
There are cultural precedents for celebrating and honouring people before death, and the meaning of such gatherings depends heavily on their cultural and personal context.
It would be misleading of me to suggest that every culture approaches the idea in the same way. Nevertheless, the international presence of living funerals challenges the assumption that remembrance must always follow death.
In Britain, the idea might initially seem uncomfortable. We tend to associate funerals with finality, grief and the practical arrangements that follow a death. The prospect of organising something resembling a funeral while the guest of honour is still enjoying a cup of tea might strike us as strange, even faintly macabre.
Yet perhaps our discomfort says as much about our attitudes towards death as it does about the event itself.
If a gathering allows someone to hear their family's stories, reconnect with old friends, resolve misunderstandings or experience the affection of those around them, what exactly is wrong with it?
There are, naturally, important considerations. A living funeral should obviously never be imposed on someone who does not want one, and it must be approached sensitively where illness, frailty or difficult family relationships are involved. Nobody should feel obliged to participate in a premature farewell simply because other people find the idea meaningful. But when it is chosen freely, it can offer something that a conventional funeral cannot: the opportunity for a person to experience their own commemoration.
They can hear the stories, feel the affection and understand the difference they have made. They can also respond in ways that would be impossible after death.
That is a remarkable opportunity, even if the terminology takes some getting used to.
Pre-Death Celebrations: Why Should Fun Be Reserved for Funerals?
I think there is another way to approach the idea, without the formality or symbolism of a funeral.
Imagine a gathering that celebrates someone's life without pretending to say goodbye. Friends and family come together for an afternoon of food, music, photographs and stories. The guest of honour is encouraged to share memories of their own, while others explain what they have learnt from knowing them.
It might resemble a milestone birthday party, a family reunion or a celebration of achievements. The difference is that the focus is deliberately on appreciation rather than presents, status or the number of candles on a cake.
These pre-death celebrations could be particularly valuable in families where affection is rarely expressed openly. Sometimes, people need a reason to gather and a little structure to help them say things that would otherwise remain unspoken.
There is no need to make the occasion solemn. In fact, humour may be one of its greatest strengths. The embarrassing holiday stories, the legendary family mishaps and the habits that have exasperated everyone for decades are often the very things that make a person memorable.
A celebration of life should make room for the life that was actually lived, not merely the polished version that might eventually appear in a eulogy, and if someone wants to request that a particular story never be told again, they can at least make their objections known while they still have the opportunity.
Would You Want to Hear Your Own Eulogy?
As someone who writes eyulogies for a living I know that a good tribute is not simply a list of achievements or an attempt to make someone sound perfect. It is an effort to capture something of their character, relationships, contradictions and influence.
That can be difficult to achieve because every life is complicated. We are all shades of grey. People are generous in some circumstances and selfish in others. We make mistakes, disappoint those we love and occasionally behave in ways that are difficult to forgive. Yet we may also show courage, kindness and unexpected wisdom.
A meaningful eulogy acknowledges the humanity of the person being remembered. It helps those left behind make sense of a relationship that can no longer develop or change.
A living eulogy introduces an intriguing complication: the person being described is still present. They may disagree with the interpretation, dispute the facts or insist that the speaker has exaggerated their importance.
Perhaps that is precisely why the idea is so appealing. We are not simply passive subjects of someone else's recollections. We can contribute to the story, explain ourselves and discover how others have experienced us.
There is also an opportunity to reflect on the legacy we are creating now. If you heard your own eulogy tomorrow, what would you hope people said about you? Would you want them to remember your professional success, your generosity, your sense of humour or the way you made them feel when life was difficult? More importantly, are those qualities visible in the way you live today?
The thought of attending your own funeral might be entertaining, but the questions it raises can be genuinely useful. We cannot control every story people will tell about us, nor can we guarantee that everyone will remember us fondly. What we can do is pay attention to our relationships, express our appreciation and make an effort to live in a way that reflects what matters to us.
The PostScript: Perhaps We Shouldn't Wait
Would I recommend attending your own funeral? If science ever makes it possible, I suspect there will be plenty of people who would happily take a seat near the back, provided they could leave before the speeches became too sentimental, but perhaps we do not need to wait for such an opportunity, however unlikely it might be.
Living eulogies, living funerals and pre-death celebrations all offer different ways of exploring the same fundamental idea: remembrance does not have to begin when life ends.
We can tell people what they mean to us now, and we should. We can gather friends and family to celebrate an ordinary life that has made an extraordinary difference. We can share the stories, offer the thanks and express the affection that might otherwise be saved for a funeral.
As a eulogy writer, I continue to help families find the words when someone has died. It is important work, and I genuinely believe that a carefully written tribute can be a source of comfort when grief makes it difficult to speak, but I also hope that more people will discover the value of saying these things while there is still time.
So, would you want to attend your own funeral? Perhaps the better question is this: if you could hear the words people might one day say about you, would you be happy to hear them today? And if there is someone in your life whose story deserves to be celebrated, what is stopping you from telling them?
You do not need to organise a living funeral, write a formal eulogy or invite everyone you have ever known. Sometimes, all it takes is a conversation, a letter or a few sincere words spoken at the right moment.
After all, the most meaningful tribute is not necessarily the one delivered when someone is gone. It may be the one that lets them know, while they are still here, that their life has mattered.
Thank you so much for taking the time to read my post, I really do appreciate it. Whislt these are just my thoughts, I'd love to know yours. Is this something you've done already? How did it go? What did you learn about yourself and how you impact those cloest to you? Let me know in the comments below. I read and reply to all of them.
Incdientally, if you want to make a start on your own Living Eulogy and take control of how you're remembered, please click the link below and or get in touch and let's have a conversation about how I can help you.
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