Writing Your Own Obituary

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What a morbid thought. Well not really because your obituary is the last definition of who you are (or were at that point).

Now originally the obit in the newspaper was to announce to the local community who had died. Of course the immediate family already knew but an announcement was made in a public media for the other working associates and friends to know.

At first it was a public announcement and then the newspapers decided to make money on this solemn statement. The line of words in a short column charged the cost, so the advertising representative would ask for more and more information about the deceased.

When you think about the number of years and all the people and things and accomplishments and careers and organizations and…. The list goes on and on.

Looking at obituaries today, there is the last employer, the list of the family, and the organizations or military experience. The end talks about the embalmer or funeral home or where the remains (oops, your corpse will reside) for people to come and view and discuss their time with you while you are laying in a box all dolled up and on your best behavior and sign a book which means they knew you or wanted to express their regrets of your passing or at least be recorded to have been on the planet while you were.

OK, enough of that (you can see why I don’t like funerals, so if any of you die, don’t count on me coming around) and we move on to the original subject.

Writing your own obituary.

Sure in the busy day-to-day world of text and messages and constant chatter, one only quickly reacts to questions and then sends them to the user before deleting the comment. And only you know what the context of the thought was or the reaction received.

These are the mysteries for the leftovers.  Those who will read your name in the obits and will be flooded with thoughts of times and conversations and perhaps deeper emotional connections with you may be missing the point.

So reward these guys with what you really think. It’s your last chance.

Only you know what was important in this passage from generation to generation. What happened before you arrived is history and what comes next is an unknown, you all you can do are to state how you adapted to your experiences here.

Sure, there is all that dry stuff of where you went to school and worked somewhere for whatever money they paid you to survive. You may have gone into military service and survived or this would be useless to try and read now. You may have joined renowned organizations and received awards and accolades over the years but so did a lot of other people. You may have had a fancy car and big house and dressed in the latest fashions, but that is not what you want to say in your obit. Add a picture if you are that shallow.

What really mattered to you while you were here? That is the question. What activities or experiences or people changed your life from someone else? Remember this is your last chance. Do you want someone else writing down who you were?

Wouldn’t it be better to remind the leftovers that you enjoyed watching the Beatles on Ed Sullivan or the first kiss or almost having to get married from an oops or wrecking the first car or taking care of your mother even though it broke up your marriage or that time when you hurt your back and thought you would die or looking into an old girlfriends eyes and wondering what happened or feeling the joy of watching little creatures scurry around in a peaceful environment provided through years of struggle or the identification bracelet of another worn in respect of honoring the name or listening to a poor recording of self inflicted sounds that were the soundtrack of the time and still bring a smile or the smell of oil bring remembrance of living in the mountains or the first wave or luffing the sail to make the ride longer or long walks and talks without restrictions or being in situations you should not be in but you survived or the day you decided you would be retired from work or the night of laying on the floor looking at the ceiling and knowing you were underwater or …. The list goes on and on.

So how do you wrap all this up together and put it in a list of “this is WHO I was”?

I don’t have the answer to that. You have to decide if you want to do.

Personal reflection: When my wife died, I thought about the obit thing. I remembered when my father died and all the fuss over trying to write the obituary with all the relatives taking control and the crazy mother not believing what had happened. Dad had a proper and formal and correct process to be laid in the ground, but I didn’t want that for her.

So I used social media to announce it. So many didn’t know her and others were never contacted. I could only say so much because I didn’t know but so much. I could have written more but I understand the need for privacy and that was respected. I could have gone into details of accomplishments but from what I knew they were too varied to even try to describe.

Now is the time, as some of us get to that age where the future is shorter than the past, not in a depressing reflection on failures but a celebration of what was. Think of the people and places and events that made you - YOU.

Authors note: No I’m not planning on going out anytime soon, but it is inevitable, so I just post these comments for our entertainment and perhaps a self exploration.