In the final weeks of my father’s life, we asked him, “How would you like people to celebrate you once you are gone?”
“No party,” he grumbled. “No party.”
Let me tell you something about my dad: He never missed a party. He never missed a celebration for someone he cared about. He never missed a funeral for someone significant in his life that had passed. This is the guy who attended every high school and neighborhood reunion possible, and he lived 3,000 miles away from where they were held.