You read that title right. There’s no hidden message in it; it’s not a hyperbole. When I was eighteen years old, I watched my own funeral. I’ll explain the story:
My high school put on a production called “mock accident” the day before senior Prom. It was a yearly tradition. Every senior class had to sit through this event. All through high school I heard whispers about what “mock accident” entailed, but I never fully understood until I was in it.
A few months before senior Prom, I was asked to attend a meeting with an extracurricular club called SADD (Students Against Destructive Decisions). I walked into the meeting after school and was asked if I would be interested in playing the “person who dies in mock accident”. It was more or less an honor to be asked to be apart of mock accident, so I couldn’t say no to the offer.
My first thoughts were, “I’ve never acted a day in my life,” and “Are you really sure I’m the right person to play this role?”
I didn’t ask those questions aloud because, well, again, it was an “honor” to be in mock accident, so I just prepared the way they instructed me to and kept my thoughts to myself.
I was asked to find people to play my “mom” and my “dad” along with someone to read my eulogy at my funeral. I was shocked. I had agreed to be the person who died, but I had no idea that meant I’d have to ask someone to encapsulate my life at a fake funeral. Let me tell ya... there is no feeling more bizarre than contemplating who will deliver your life’s story during a fake event you will also be present at.
I remember not knowing who to ask to say my eulogy. I wasn’t sure which of my friends would be up for giving a speech in front of my entire grade. I also didn’t know who would be comfortable being put in that position, regardless if it were all an act.
After some thought, I decided I would ask my sister. She had graduated high school at that point, so she came back for the day to be apart of the funeral scene.
You may be thinking, “I understand this is some kind of ‘act’, but what exactly is ‘mock accident’?”
A few students in every senior class (I have no idea if my high school still puts on a mock accident) are asked to reenact a drunk driving car accident the day before senior Prom. It’s supposed to really drive home the fact that drinking and driving can lead to fatalities. Thus, it hopefully deters students from making poor choices on the night of Prom.
Aside from getting assigned a “role” or “character”, my peers and I improvised the entire act. We didn’t have a single rehearsal, practice any lines, or have any type of script. There was a general layout, but other than that, we were expected to just act as if we had actually been in a drunk driving accident. For someone who’s never acted a day in her life, I had no idea how I was going to perform. I hoped for the best and just ran with it.
The day of mock accident I got to school early so that someone could smear fake blood on my face, neck, and limbs. We were asked to arrive in clothes we didn’t care about so that they could be ripped up. We all got fake incisions and cuts draw onto our bodies, and after we were “stage ready”, we made our way to the scene.
Two totaled cars from a nearby junk yard were set up in the parking lot of my high school. Police officers and firefighters were also apart of the act, and they had an ambulance around the corner waiting to drive onto the scene.
The other senior students who were apart of mock accident and I sat in the totaled cars with a tarp over us. A fog machine filled up the cars to add more dramatic effect to the performance, and there was shattered glass all over the ground from the police breaking the car windows.
An administrator from my high school acted as the dispatcher describing the car accident we had just gotten into, and as soon as he finished detailing the accident, the tarp was ripped off of the cars we were sitting in. That was our cue to start acting.
I actually don’t remember a lot of the beginning, to be honest. I think I blacked out from nerves. My memory starts back up again when I was lifted onto a stretcher and put in the back of an ambulance. At that point, I was being driven to my school’s auditorium where the rest of the performance took place.
The auditorium was supposed to represent a hospital setting. I was placed in the middle of the stage, still on the stretcher, and my “mom” and “dad” were by my bedside.
After chest compressions and the defibrillator failed to revive me, I was pronounced dead by the doctor. My class (and I) had to watch as my “mom” and “dad” said their goodbyes to me. That was when the curtains closed, and I was wheeled off stage.
Backstage, I rose from the stretcher and walked upstairs to the room where all the lighting was controlled. There, I proceeded to watch my funeral in the auditorium below me.
There was a casket in front of the stage with my senior picture on it, bouquets of flowers placed around the makeshift funeral home, and over 300 people in that room ready for the act to continue.
My sister was at the podium reading my eulogy, and there I was... watching it all unfold in front of my eyes.
I also want to mention that I wasn’t the only one who “died” in the accident. Another one of my classmates was “killed” on impact and was pronounced dead on the scene. His girlfriend (now fiancé) read his eulogy during the funeral scene, too. It was extremely emotional. Neither she nor my sister made it through their speeches with dry eyes.
I honestly didn’t think much of the performance while it was happening because I had a million other obligations and priorities during that time which took up a lot of my mental capacity, but I have a lot more thoughts about it now.
I don’t know how many other people can say they’ve watched their own funerals. I wouldn’t say that it was anything I’d want to sit through again, and even though mock accident was morbid, it was still impactful. Decisions that reckless can have lasting effects, so it was a powerful performance to be apart of.
This is your sign to be mindful while you’re on the road. Life is very precious. The goodbyes my “mom” and “dad” said to me while I was on the stretcher in the middle of the stage had me in literal tears. No one should ever have to go through that, if it can be prevented. There are far too many options to be exhausted before you get behind the wheel while you’re impaired or get in the car with someone who’s under the influence— take it from the girl who watched her own funeral.
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