Several years ago, while Katy Prange was struggling to balance kids and a job with a husband who has no back seats in his vehicle 50% of the time, she discovered very few ways to connect with others who understand the unique life experiences of someone who shares Life With A Funeral Director.

As a result, she founded Life With A Funeral Director.com to create an online community and resource for others who share life with funeral industry professionals.

Katy has been married to a funeral director for almost 10 years and is mom to two little girls.

She is a Legislative Aide for her day job, writes a weekly blog at lifewithafuneraldirector.com and hosts a Life With A Funeral Director Facebook group.  Katy’s vision is to offer others who share life with a funeral director some ideas, thoughts and resources to strengthen and maintain our relationships under extremely unique and challenging circumstances.

She is seeking to find a way to connect with future-spouses of funeral directors to help them think through some of the “stuff” that challenges us on a daily basis, before they have to react to it.  By offering a little humor and perspective, Katy hopes to create a sanctuary for others who seek understanding, even if it’s after the third night that the pager has gone off at 3 a.m.  In addition, Katy hates lilies.

****

I attended a funeral this week that touched me unlike any other.

For anyone who knows me, you know that we’ve attended a record number in the past year, so I have some relatively recent experience to draw upon.

This funeral was for my sister-in-laws father, whom I knew, but not well.  But I always enjoyed his company.  I felt really lucky to have been able to spend Christmas Eve with her family at our church’s kid-service.  Little did I know it would be the last time I would see his smile.

The funeral was very touching because it was a sincere celebration of a life that many people would probably call unremarkable.  There weren’t lists of awards or accollades.  There weren’t trophies and “things” that commemorated his life.  His obituary didn’t look like a re-tooled resume.

But the room was full and the tears were plenty as a life of true love and an unwavering dedication to family was recalled through laughter and sadness.  There was not a single mention of regret.  It didn’t exist.  But the stories, the “dad always saids…”, the strength that he held throughout his final battle and the little things of his everyday life, filled the space with a celebration.

As we often do, I started to contemplate my own demise and realized that there are some little things I need to start doing in my life now – to have the kind of life I want to be remembered when it is my turn.  While I will be looking on from above, I still want my life to be worth celebrating.  I want my children to know me and know unconditional love from me.  I want to build traditions for them that they can pass down and live with their own families and maybe remember me when I am not there anymore.  I want my husband to know how much I love and cherish him.  I want to be remembered for the woman I was – not what I did.

I also realized I want everyone to hear my favorite songs at my funeral.  I’m going to make them all eat Thai food at the after meal and then I want everyone to meet around a campfire after the service to have a beer and toast marshmallows.

And because I share a life with a funeral director, I know that if I write it down and plan it, it can happen that way.  In death – as in life – I can be the complete control freak that I am and have things my way one last time.  And if I live my life the way I should, no one will mind.

I attended a funeral this week that touched me unlike any other.

For anyone who knows me, you know that we’ve attended a record number in the past year, so I have some relatively recent experience to draw upon.

This funeral was for my sister-in-laws father, whom I knew, but not well.  But I always enjoyed his company.  I felt really lucky to have been able to spend Christmas Eve with her family at our church’s kid-service.  Little did I know it would be the last time I would see his smile.

The funeral was very touching because it was a sincere celebration of a life that many people would probably call unremarkable.  There weren’t lists of awards or accollades.  There weren’t trophies and “things” that commemorated his life.  His obituary didn’t look like a re-tooled resume.

But the room was full and the tears were plenty as a life of true love and an unwavering dedication to family was recalled through laughter and sadness.  There was not a single mention of regret.  It didn’t exist.  But the stories, the “dad always saids…”, the strength that he held throughout his final battle and the little things of his everyday life, filled the space with a celebration.

As we often do, I started to contemplate my own demise and realized that there are some little things I need to start doing in my life now – to have the kind of life I want to be remembered when it is my turn.  While I will be looking on from above, I still want my life to be worth celebrating.  I want my children to know me and know unconditional love from me.  I want to build traditions for them that they can pass down and live with their own families and maybe remember me when I am not there anymore.  I want my husband to know how much I love and cherish him.  I want to be remembered for the woman I was – not what I did.

I also realized I want everyone to hear my favorite songs at my funeral.  I’m going to make them all eat Thai food at the after meal and then I want everyone to meet around a campfire after the service to have a beer and toast marshmallows.

And because I share a life with a funeral director, I know that if I write it down and plan it, it can happen that way.  In death – as in life – I can be the complete control freak that I am and have things my way one last time.  And if I live my life the way I should, no one will mind.

Enter Your Mail Address