on death and dying....

I have a confession to make today. Nothing earth shattering I'm afraid. Nor is it a deep seated confession of sexual perversion.....nor that I am really a man...nothing as cool as that.
I read the obituaries in the newspaper - every day. Sometimes I even read them on line. I have a consumptive interest in the death and life stories of other people. I figure if they took the time and trouble to live their life, the least I can do is read about it.
I started reading them back home - in Stratford - where the entire daily newspaper is less than 20 pages long most days. Usually there are half a dozen dead people - some days more or less. And, best of all, sometimes they run the obit for multiple days.
Sure, the obituary gives you all the facts - where they lived, how old they were when they died and where and when the funeral crap will be. It even tells you where you can make donations in memory of the deceased - which can sometimes give you an idea of what killed them. B
But to me, the important bit is the listing of family. Married to, predeceased by, meeting his parents in the great beyond...that's the information that lets you piece together the important bits of someone's life. That's what tells you what makes the man.
Its in the family list that you can find out all of the bits and pieces of a person's history that they may leave out if they were to tell you themselves. Like the child that they had that died at birth and the brothers and sisters they are estranged from - even the divorces and remarriages. If you were to have met the person while they lived it is likely they would never have told you so much about themselves - all the juicy bits and pieces.
If you are very very very lucky, you find obituaries in the newspaper that tell you about how that person lived. What they did for a living, where they worked, what their hobbies were, charities they worked with and things and people that were important to them. That is like discovering a gorgeous novel!
Always, the gold star for obits is a photo. An old photo is the pinnacle of newspaper obituaries. Not only do you create a history for the person - you can picture the actual person as well. Excellent.
Okay, well not really excellent - cause the person is still dead. My husband thinks its sick that I read them. But, hello, what the hell are they in the paper for?
I want people to read mine. I'm asking you right now, one of you write me a fantastic obituary (preferably AFTER I die) and the rest of you read it. Someone find a picture that doesn't make me look fat. Photoshop it if you have to.
Lisa recently wrote a blog asking how she would be remembered after she died (my suggestions are in the comments) and hypothesized that maybe it doesn't really matter how we are remembered after we die - cause, you know, we're dead. But, it matters to me to remember people.
Today in my troll through the star obits (2 full pages and lots of photos - yay!) I found someone I used to know. Someone I used to work with who beat me out for a Supervisory position once that I really really wanted. She got the job. She also got cancer, suffered for 10 years, and left a husband and child behind and died at 54. Given the choice, I'd rather be unemployed.
I called Wayne to tell him - Jennifer died - and he already knew. Oh no, he said, you're reading the obituaries again. I am. And I'm remembering Jennifer and thanking my lucky stars just to be here.