Sound morbid? Here’s the scoop:

My good friend who lives in another major US city recently woke up at no soul’s hour in a cold sweat. He claims he’d just experienced this bizarre dream where I died by a violent car wreck… the following Sunday. He couldn’t return to sleepland, so he stayed up and wrote my eulogy. When Sunday came and went uneventful, he mailed me the eulogy.

I must say, these are the kindest things anyone has ever said about me.

I share them now not to say, “I’ve arrived,” but rather “I aspire… to these things.” I share them not for “check out how awesome I am,” but rather, “check out what an incredible life I could live if only I use this eulogy as a sort of guide.” He flattered me, plain and simple, but the flattery has become something of a Ph test for whether I’m living life well. Does what you’re doing feel off, Lance?

Check the eulogy.

In the words of Johnny Edwards:

“Resolved:  to think much on all occasions of my own dying, and of the common circumstances which attend death.”

Why did Johnny do that?

So that he might live humbly, and through the humility of his mortality, live a vibrant life.

Here’s my eulogy, written by my anonymous friend:

My good friend Lance, your spirit will be missed. Lance was more unique than any person I’ve ever met. Lance was energy, pure passion and raw energy.

Lance strove to practice meekness and self-control, keeping that wild energy harnessed, and he focused it into his creative passions. But if you stood close enough and watched him carefully, you’d see it flashing through his layers of intellect and occasionally exploding out into the atmosphere, much like watching solar flares through a powerful telescope.

You see, Lance channeled his energy on a wavelength inaccessible to most humans. He was one of the few true intellects that I’ve had the pleasure of learning from. But he was more than that. He was a poet, a playwright, a lover, an author, a fighter, a student, an artist, a storyteller, a craftsman, a minstrel, an acknowledged sinner, and a humble saint.

He possessed wisdom beyond his years, and a passion for his faith, and a love for his wife, that most of us only dream of having. Given his expansive intellect, Lance was able to discuss with earnest nearly any matter under the sun (and beyond). His artfully crafted conversation style, and his vast recollection of works of literature, left some peers at a loss and made some relationships difficult for him. However, I found these traits endearing. Lance and I did not always see eye to eye on many issues, but I always respected his position, for I knew that it was carefully thought out and tested.

Lance married a woman he loved deeply, a woman who I watched grow up and who was my closest friend during my formative years. It was a foreign experience to see her swept up into the arms of this zealous creature. Conversations that used to be ours were now theirs. But Lance excelled at caring for his bride, and loving her, just as Christ had loved him. Never was a man so deserving to be partnered with such a wonderful girl. He was truly blessed.

Lance? You will be missed sorely, not just by me, but by the hundreds of people that you have touched. Through countless interactions, your soul sang some much deeper tune that caused others to feel the same song in their soul. That one song makes us want to reach out beyond ourselves and find life.

I will miss the soothing nature of your voice, our infrequent but long talks, and our exchange of ideas. I will miss feeling the radiance of that gravitating yet divisive energy that surrounds you. I regret that we didn’t spend more time together.

But you are in a better place now, a place whose very essence and spirit now resonate to the tune that was always in your heart.

You’re now home.

Well…

I guess…

I guess if I can but live up to the half of all that by the time I die, then my life was worth conception.

And I guess I’m glad I’m not dead yet.

picture via creative commons flickr courtesy David