It is customary that at the graveside friends and relatives talk about the one whose body is being buried.

The words may come spontaneously from the heart on the wings of love and friendship, or they can be prepared in long speeches that are no less expressive.

It's the ultimate tribute, people say, as if the Spirit died with the body and would not continue to exist, feel and perceive.

But it was just thinking of these posthumous honors that an old American professor of Massachusetts, whose doctor gave him a short period of life, decided for something new.

In his last year of life, moving around in a wheelchair, he went to the funeral of a friend who had died of a heart attack.

He came back depressed. He had heard so many speeches and tributes but he wondered if his friend had heard it all.

Would His Spirit be disconnected from matter? Was he conscious enough to hear?

Thinking about it, he had an idea. He made a few phone calls and picked a date.

On a chilly Sunday afternoon he gathered the family: his wife, two children, and also some very close friends.

The goal was a live funeral. All present paid tribute to the husband, father, teacher, and friend.

There were tears and laughter. A cousin of his dedicated him a poem in which she called him beloved cousin and compared him to a great ancient and generous tree.

The teacher cried and laughed with them. All feelings that were held deep inside those people who loved him were expressed that day.

The live funeral was a success. It would take him a few more months until he died. A slow and painful death. He died on a Saturday morning after two days of agony.

He exhaled his last breath at exactly the same moment that people who watched over him went to the kitchen to sip a cup of coffee.

He stopped breathing the first time he was alone since going into coma.

He departed peacefully, surrounded by his books, his notes, his flowers. He died in his bed at his home.

The funeral was simple, by a lake, where you could hear the ducks shaking their feathers.

His son read a poem:

My father walked between them and us

Singing each new fallen leaf of each tree

And every child knew that spring danced

When they heard my father sing.

*   *   *

While your legs are firm, run to those you love.

While your arms are strong, hold your loved ones close to the heart.

While your mind is agile and lucid, write poems, notes, letters, and express all your love.

While your voice sounds strong and generous, be sure to talk with your friends and colleagues. Sing, shout, and whisper words of affection, enthusiasm, and encouragement.

And never, never be ashamed of saying I love you.

Spiritist Moment Team, based on chapter The program, of the book
A última grande lição, by Mitch Albom. Published by Sextante.
May 28.2012.