What Will Your Obituary Say?

I’ve been thinking a lot about death and obituaries lately. The thoughts started when I attended a Celebration of Life, and were amplified when our latest book club pick was I See You’ve Called in Dead.

When we moved in across the street from Loris, I was pregnant with Nick, and Loris was in her 70s. She brought over a pitcher of iced tea and a cake to welcome us to the neighbourhood, and our friendship grew from there. She was an amazing woman who raised six daughters, worked as a psychiatric nurse, went on countless adventures, fought for what she believed in, and spread light, love, and laughter wherever she went.

For decades, Loris walked the streets of downtown Ottawa, handing out socks and sandwiches to people living on the streets. She never lost sight of their humanity and befriended many of them. One time, when she was about 90, we were trying to arrange to meet up with her for dinner. She said she was going to a protest in the States that weekend, then added, somewhat indignantly, I’m banned from Parliament Hill for 30 days. Of course you are, Loris. She was a life-long social activist and a member of the Raging Grannies. Tiny, but feisty!

When we attended Loris’s 80th birthday in her church hall, Nick, seven at the time, went missing. I found him sitting alone in the adjacent chapel, deep in thought. He was curious about God and started going to church with Loris on Sunday mornings (until we moved to England later that year).

She gave Nick subscriptions to Chirp, Chickadee, and Owl magazines, and when he outgrew those, switched to gift cards or a cheque. When Nick painted her a thank-you card, she insisted on taking us out for dinner…to thank Nick for the card he’d made to thank her for the check.

She was gifted almost a hundred years on earth, and she lived that life to the absolute fullest.

After attending her Celebration of Life, I read So I See You’ve Called in Dead, a humorous book that tackles serious topics. It’s about an obituary writer who accidentally publishes his own obituary during a drunken late-night pity party. While suspended from work, he starts attending stranger’s funerals to better understand death, and in so doing, to learn how to live. It’s a book that prompts you to reflect on how you’re living your life, and what people will remember after you’re gone.

What would you write if you had to write your obituary? Today, right now. What comes to mind? What memories, days, moments? What people and experiences? I realize, at first glance, that the idea of writing one’s own obituary while still alive may sound morbid. It’s not, though. I promise you. It’s a needed reminder of who you are, of what truly matters. Because it’s your life and there’s still time to write it

~ John Kenney, I See You’ve Called In Dead

I haven’t written my obituary, but the idea is thought-provoking. Describing my life would be easy enough, but what you did with your life isn’t what people will miss about you. People will miss your essence, the kind of person you were, but writing about that is trickier, partly because we don’t necessarily see ourselves as others see us. When I think of my mom’s essence, it was: kind, gentle, good listener. My dad was: sense of humour, easy-going, found joy in simple pleasures. Others might choose different words. Not everyone knows the same sides of you.

Since I started thinking about it, phrases have popped into my head, but they’re mostly tongue-in-cheek: never quite learned how to adult; couldn’t be left alone in a room with chocolate; introvert with Vulcan-like tendencies; enjoyed books, tea, and warmth; disliked March, snakes, and being cold.

The author wrote that we write our obituary through the choices we make each day, but he also acknowledges that it’s human nature to regularly lose sight of that.

“This … miracle that is existence. Which we layer with so much. With anxiety and fear and greed and smallness and what’s next and hurry up and I’ve got a meeting and all the … stuff … that gets in the way. I’m not saying we should all go live like a monk. I’m saying that if you haven’t lived the life you want, if you haven’t loved life, then at the end, I think a deep and very sad regret comes over you. But if you have, if you’ve lived well … friends and family and … if you’ve lived … then just as true is the peace you feel.”

~ John Kenney, I See You’ve Called in Dead

Thinking about your own obituary isn’t an easy exercise. It forces you to face the gap between how you want to be remembered and how you will be remembered…the person you want to be vs the person you are. If there’s no gap there, then you’re doing pretty well! Seeing how much life Loris packed into the years after she’d turned 70, reassures me that I (may) still have time to narrow that gap…perhaps even soften some of those Vulcan-like tendencies.

I stayed in Ottawa for a couple of days after the Celebration of Life, catching up with friends, mostly former work colleagues who are now retired. In case I wasn’t already focused enough on my mortality, I learned about former colleagues who’ve passed away, and others who are fighting cancer…but I was also reminded of the joys in life, like sharing laughs, memories, and good conversation with friends who’ve known you since way back when.

While I was busy staring into the abyss, Ray and Nick were busy keeping fit.

Ray, having stayed home with Juno while I was in Ottawa, decided he’d cycle to Ottawa and back. As you do. He stayed with Warm Showers hosts the first two nights, then with friends in Westboro, Pineglen, and Osgoode, combining his ride with a few catch-up visits. His final night was at a motel in Gananoque, and then I picked him up in Wellington. He had one rainy day, one muggy day, and some headwind days, but overall the weather cooperated. He said it was tough at times, mentally and physically, but it was a good challenge.

On the same day that Ray rode 126 kms from Osgoode to Gananoque, Nick rode 122 kms from Vancouver to Whistler in the GranFondo Whister. I mowed the entire lawn by myself that day (*pats self on back*).

Nick said the last 30 kms of the ride, uphill and into a strong headwind, was “character-building”. Nick and Ray talk about the point in the ride where they question why they do this to themselves. They must come up with an answer because they keep doing it.

Nick and Megan spent the long weekend bike packing around Saltspring Island and Gabriola Island with a couple of friends.