A Light for My Path

For as long as I can remember, I have been intrigued by obituaries. I love to read them, whether they are about someone I know, someone famous, or just a random obituary in the paper. (We don’t take a physical daily paper any longer and I miss turning to the obit page and scanning for something interesting.)

Many famous people have a prewritten obituary. It may be written by an author who has also written, or will write, that person’s biography. Or by a journalist who has followed that person’s career. A benefit to that is the famous person gets to vet what is said before he or she shuffles off this mortal coil. (Thank you, William Shakespeare for this pithy phrase.) I almost always learn something new in an obituary, even if the famous person was someone whose career I followed.

But, I’m even more interested in the obituaries of ordinary people. Because, no one is entirely ordinary; especially to those who love them.

I have written a few obituaries over the years: for one of my grandmothers, my aunt, both my parents, my stepmom, pets. And my own daughter.

Writing is a way for me to process my emotions. And, deep emotions compel me to write. My memories of a person are mine alone. Oh sure, other people were often a part of the occasions I write about, but each of us experiences every event, every moment, uniquely. The older I get, the more important it is to me to capture those random moments and write them down for safekeeping.

I hope I’ve done justice to the people I’ve written about. I hope I’ve encapsulated their goodness, their foibles, their humanness, the mark they made on this world and on my heart.

One thing I don’t want to do as a writer is write my own obituary. Not because I think it’s morbid; I think it’s egotistical. I write about myself enough as it is. Sometimes I get a little tired of my own angst. And, I don’t want to read what anyone else might write. I know I’d be tempted to edit it.

But, I am always honored when I’m asked to help write someone else’s obituary. To help them coalesce their feelings and memories of their loved one. To be allowed to add my own memories if I knew the deceased. To coax from someone’s heart all the reasons they are glad this unique person lived. And why they will be missed and remembered until we meet again.

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Laura