What everyone said over and over was that "she touched so many people." It's true. She was a very social person - someone who always enjoyed going out, mixing, drawing people into a crowd to have fun.
I started thinking about my own funeral, and realizing that mine will be a more Eleanor Rigby affair.
My life right now consists of work and home. I have lost touch with most of the people I went to high school and college with, and I don't really mind the loss. The people with whom I interact on a daily basis aren't the sort of people whom I'd call "friends." I'd more likely call them "co-workers." We barely socialize, I don't tell them much about my personal life. Even here, not all of you know my real name. Even fewer of you know my husband's name or the names of my children. You all know some of the more sordid details of my life, but very few of you could pick me out of a lineup.
And then I got to thinking, "Do I even care? Does it matter to me how big the crowd at my funeral or what's said about me in the eulogy?" The answer to that is yes and no. I'm going to be dead. Whatever people thought about me while I'm alive will likely change drastically once I'm dead. As with every artist, my stock is worth much more when no new shares can be issued. On the other hand, I realize that there is a very vain and shallow part of me that does want to be loved, even if I'm incapable of withstanding anything that might demonstrate that love to me.
It's stupid, I know.