Towards the end of Cassie Holmes’ book, Happier Hour, she explains an assignment that she gives to her MBA students at UCLA: to write their own eulogy. She believes that by examining one’s life in its entirety, it helps a person design his or her days, and even hours, with purpose. By doing so, the importance of living each moment with visible significance becomes clear.
Though the task is aimed at young people, I wondered if the exercise would be valuable for me. Perhaps the mission – to help people view how an overall life is structured through intentional increments – is less important for someone older than the average graduate school student. But even if I learned nothing from it, it would at least be an amusing and easy writing project.
I decided on two rules: (1) I would write my eulogy based on what I thought about myself, not how others might view me; and (2) I would script my epitaph as though I had just died, not as if I had lived to a ripe old age.
So, here is goes:
Thank you for coming here today to celebrate the life of Laurin Schweet. She would be astounded at the turn-out, though she would applaud the good judgment of those who had something more worthwhile to do with their time, like raking leaves or cleaning a closet.
Laurin was born in Pasadena, California and was blessed with an idyllic childhood, the foundation of which would sustain her through the almost-insurmountable hurdles that lay ahead. Her parents were smart, intellectual, and devoted to each other and their three children. Laurin’s life was filled with camping trips, outdoor play, exposure to the arts and music, and horseback riding. Each child was adored and supported in their passion – younger brother Rick with sports and older sister Lynn with ballet.
The tragic, accidental deaths of Laurin’s father when she was 11 years old and Lynn when she was 13 could have destroyed her. For a while her cobbled-together remaining family stumbled through a life filled with anguish interspersed with fragmented reminders of what used to be. And yet, her family regained its footing, and resilience bubbled up in Laurin, a trait that kept her in good stead for the rest of her life.
Laurin’s young adulthood was full of fun and included some missteps and mistakes, but each one made her more determined and resolute. She finished her undergraduate degree at the University of Kentucky and then moved to Washington state, eventually graduating from law school at Seattle University.
Laurin married a strapping young civil engineer, Don Thompson, during her first year of law school, and in 1986, they welcomed the first of three sons into the world during her third year. Second son Andy arrived in 1989, and third son Evan announced his presence in 1993. Professional and family lives intersected for years with chaotic joyfulness.
After becoming a partner at a large Seattle law firm, followed by a five-year stint at a small firm, Laurin took the plunge in 2002 and started her own practice. For reasons she could not fathom, additional lawyers started working with her. At the time of her death, the firm had twelve lawyers and multi-million-dollar revenues. She always considered it the greatest privilege to practice law with talented and ethical lawyers and exceptional support staff. Each member of the team contributed to the firm’s success in incalculable ways, for which she was eternally grateful.
Laurin would disavow any innate exemplary characteristics, but with maturity, she agreed with the assessment of a summer camp counselor when she was eight years old. At the end of the summer camp session, she was mortified to receive the Most Persistent Camper award; she would have preferred recognition for Best Snipe Hunter or Most Likely to Frustrate a Camp Counselor. Persistence was her paramount attribute, and she felt it was an honorable substitute for brilliance or creativity.
Laurin adored her family, and she was her sons’ biggest fan. She believed that her children turned out well despite her mothering – not because of it. She stayed in her lane as a parent, but she was never at a loss for words if she thought the situation warranted it. Motherhood brought her more delight than she believed was possible.
At the time of her death, Laurin and Don had been married for 38 years. Laurin was astonished that she had found someone who loved her despite her temperamental personality – and who never asked how long something would take or what it would cost. The college football season was a bit wearing on the marriage, but otherwise, Don and Laurin complemented each other perfectly.
Laurin abhorred being the center of attention, which is why she will no doubt haunt you all in the future for sitting around, thinking well of her, and dabbing at your eyes. But she loved planning events and vacations with others. Those excursions included surprise birthday parties, bike trips through US and European venues, time at the family cabin in Cle Elum, and adventures and races with her running buddies.
Laurin liked herself more with maturity than she did in her youth. She became more genuinely kind with age instead of just being nice. She always faced adversity with an unblinking gaze and knew that a structured life is the foundation of satisfaction. She understood that she was responsible for her own happiness, and with age, she was increasingly grateful for the smallest joyful moments. Though I suspect that she is a bit miffed that she died too young to live off the social security dole, I know that she could not have envisioned an existence more beautiful and captivating than the one she had.
Feel free to stay and linger with others who knew and loved Laurin. But know that if she were here, she would shoo you out soon to do something more fun like taking a walk outdoors or cuddling with a pet. Thank you all for coming.
I always like to make things easy for my family. Maybe I should send this to them in Word, and they can easily update it when the time comes. Unless, of course, they decide to skip the funeral. If so, they will have no argument from me.