I'm An Avid Obituary Reader

My 54th birthday was in January, last month.  It took this long to get the nerve to start this blog.  I kept stalling, putting it off, procrastinating- something I'm really good at.  Around day 10 of putting this blog off, I started  thinking about an obituary I had read.  It got me thinking that everyone's life is important, and everyone has a story to tell.     

    I dreaded turning 50.  I feared turning 51.  I was afraid of turning 52.  I was depressed about turning 53.   So this year when I turned 54 instead of dreading it, fearing it, crying about it, I decided to embrace it.  I am thrilled to be here--I made it to 54.  Wow!   That's quite remarkable in my family.  Being female and in your fifties is a scary thing when cancer seems to be the enemy we're fighting more than aging.  My mother died of pancreatic cancer at age 58 and my sister died of breast cancer at age 55.  They lost their fight, and everyone lost two beautiful, gentle souls.   So here I am, and every year in this decade is a milestone.  

This really isn't my 54th year, technically this is my 55th year.  Reminds me of the obituaries in the paper stating, "Mrs. so-and-so passed away unexpectedly in her 84th year, she was 83."  Interestingly, reading newspaper obituaries from the 1850's, the obituary would report, "Mr. so-and-so died very suddenly in the 44th year of his age."  It took me a quick second to figure out the actual age of the person when I  read these obituaries.  

          I became a loyal and daily death notice reader about twelve years ago for the simple fact that I owned and operated a flower shop.  A large part of our business came from funerals. At the flower shop we would get our morning paper delivered and the first page we all flipped to was the obituary section.   Reading this section would give us the heads up on the recently deceased, their name, age, which funeral home, the planned arrangements, and the family members that may be in that day or calling over the phone to make flower arrangements. 

Fast forward to recent days of being a nurse on the med/surg and oncology floor and again the obits (nursing slang for obituary) are the first section I flip to because of my concern for my past and recent patients.  I remember one patient in particular we had discharged with a clean bill of health, five weeks later their name appeared in that section.  What a shock, you take it so personal when you have participated in the care of that person.  It's sad.  All the nurses I worked with had a certain order to reading the newspaper.  First stop was the obituary section, next was the weather, then to local news and accidents reported.   Now it's become a habit reading the obituaries. It's a daily thing, I don't know why.  I am not in a nursing position anymore, and I no longer own a flower shop.   I have to admit I read the ages first before I even read the names.  When I see an age the same as mine I quickly read the name.  I want to know is it someone I went to school with, someone I worked with, an old neighbor, why and how did this person die?  

       I read an obituary when I worked in the flower shop that was quite evident that the woman that had just passed had written it.  This obituary was written in the first person by a local woman that died in her 87th year.   She went into great detail about the life she lived and what a life she had had.  It was the longest obituary that I have ever read.  Written in her own words she wrote in great detail about  her charming, but self-sacrificing life.  She told of the children that she bore, their ages, where they now lived and who called and who did not.   Her words were cutting.  She wrote of the daughter and son who "never bothers to call, write or attempts to check on their mother." She let the readers all know what a great knitter she was, and how fantastic she looked in her graduation pictures.  She told of a happy, busy life as a farmer's wife with four children that had turned into a lonely existence since her beloved husband had passed 12 years earlier.  She did not refrain from the sarcastic remarks regarding two of her children and their disloyal ways.  I laughed when I first read the death notice but I got to thinking that this sweet, frail woman who had been a wife, mother, and grandmother died a lonely, rejected woman.  Or was she?  With pen in hand, she made her life legitimate, making herself feel good about her life, and the sacrifices she made letting others know it was not a wasted life. 
She was a church-going woman who loved her husband and loved her babies.  She was self-sufficient and had several hobbies, and bragged about how good she was at her homemaker skills. All the while writing in the first person she did not hesitate  bashing the children that had discounted her and left her behind.  Instead of feeling unworthy this woman made a special point to all that her life was important.  She was a worthy, decent, first-class human being.  Her life and her time on this earth was important--and she wanted everyone to know it!      
                                                                                                            I think everyone should write their own obituary.  It would save the family grief from trying to put words, dates, and names together at such a sad time.  It would also give the writer an opportunity to reflect on their life.  Their life, their loves, losses, triumphs, fears, and disappointments, now is the time to say everything.  Go ahead and confess.  Tell it like it really is.  It's a story only you can tell.  Just because.   Just because you are important-today-tomorrow-years from now and years ago.  It's your story.  Your year.     Therefore, this blog, this year, it's all mine and only I can write it.