"Our world could use this beauty; just think what we might do."

How do you decide what to say at your mother's funeral? I sat at desk, looking at a blank page, trying to think. Should I try to summarize my mother's life? Try to say what she meant to her family? Or should I instead offer some comfort to my grieving relatives? How would I begin to accomplish any of those goals? I prided myself on my ability to write about almost any subject. But here, with this assignment, I was at a loss.

I tried not to force anything. Instead, I allowed ideas steep in my mind, mixing around gently, letting them flavor my thinking like tea leaves sitting in water. Tea, I considered, was something that Mom and I both loved. We also shared a love of music, and I smiled to myself, remembering long drives listening to the radio together. As a kid I remembered telling Mom how terrible I though Joe Cocker was, how I didn't see how she could like his music at all. I remembered the time years later when I apologized to her for my youthful arrogance, because damn does that man pour his heart and soul into every single thing he sings. I remembered taking a walk with my parents one day, shutting down Mom's insistence that original songs were always better then covers with four words: "All Along the Watchtower". We both laughed, agreeing that my argument was irrefutable.

I remembered many other times that Mom and I had laughed together: the strange inside jokes we shared in the family, the awful puns that were so bad they were good again. I thought how she always shared her humor and good cheer with everyone, from Nobel prize-winning scientists to the children she taught in Sunday School. This reminded me of her selflessness, how she might be the only person I have ever known that would literally give you the shirt off her back if she thought you needed it. I reflected that she did her best to pass on all of these qualities to me -- humor, compassion, selflessness, love.

My mom passed away five years ago, but I'm still learning from her. I still try to follow her example. I don't dwell on the fact that she is gone; I try to let her life inspire me, to serve as a guide for becoming a better person. Planning her funeral, I realized I had to make a decision. I could look back with regret and sorrow, dwelling on my loss, grieving for all the things that I can't share with her and all the plans that cannot now be fulfilled. Or I could look forward, to see the influence of her life and her example, to see all of the wonderful things she gave to the world.

Death comes for us all. Ultimately, we own nothing, we hold onto nothing. We merely borrow substance for a while, using it for a while before inevitably returning it back to the Universe. As much time stretches before our birth as after we die. But, though our time and the very atoms that make up our bodies and minds are temporary, we still exert influence. We create ripples, we change the world by moving through it. General Choi, the founder of Taekwon-Do, implores martial arts students to "Be the eternal teacher who teaches with the body when young, with words when old, and by moral precept even after death."

In the end, I memorialized my mother by telling her favorite joke, by encouraging everyone gathered at her funeral to remember and share all of the fantastic times we had together -- and by re-dedicating myself to to moving forward, following her example and using everything she gave me in whatever new challenges and opportunities are ahead.

Addendum: as I was writing this essay, I heard the news that another of my lifelong heroes, Neil Peart, also passed away. His lyrics provide a fitting coda, and a reminder that we should never give ourselves over to regret or remorse.

All the journeys of this great adventure
It didn't always feel that way
I wouldn't trade them because I made them
The best I could, and that's enough to say

Some days were dark
I wish that I could live it all again
Some nights were bright
I wish that I could live it all again

- Neil Peart, "Headlong Flight"