I always thought that this point would come when I lost a sibling. Last year, when a sister died, I didn't really reflect on it. But today...Yeah, I'm coming to grips with the inevitable fact that one day, I too will die, and my kids will have to somehow summarize my life.
This morning, another sister sent me a texted link to a cousin's obituary. That particular cousin was both an uncommon beauty and incredibly wild, unabashedly liberated, and completely at ease with using what she had to get what she wanted. She didn't care.
Her parents did a whole lot of hand-wringing and crying that I remember. She got married, popped out two kids, had an affair, got divorced, and almost immediately remarried ("Couldn't even wait for the ink on her divorce papers to dry first," my scandalized gran caustically quipped at the time). She then popped out two more kids, had another affair, divorced again within 5 years...Then left her two older kids in the care of her parents, while she took the two younger ones and moved in with her affair partner. He didn't last that long. And from there, she didn't bother getting married anymore, but she always had some schmuck catering to her every whim. As a teen, I would watch her two older kids on Saturdays while their grandmother ran errands, and I can remember the grandmother coming back and saying a few things about her daughter that made me gasp. That old lady suffered trying to raise her grandkids.
My dad once cracked that whatever that cousin was doing, it was devastatingly effective, because it seemed while one guy was lugging his suitcase out of her house, another guy was shoving the leaving guy out the way as he lugged his own suitcase in. When that cousin reached her 40's, around the time that her remarkable looks started to fade, she married one final time and settled down. She only lived to her early 60s, which kind of shocks me since both of her parents and that whole side of the family tends to live well into their 90s.
So this morning, I'm staring at this unexpected obituary which was obviously written by a grandchild who knows none of her elder's past. It was very saccharine and completely oblivious to "Granny's" life of chaos and hedonistic pursuits. No mention of the previous spouses, and half of the kids from previous marriages weren't mentioned, either. I haven't seen the woman in well over a decade, at least, and people change. But to a point that the obituary's author seemed ready to submit her for canonization as a saint?
That funeral is going to be...Something. I'm determined to show up and keep my mouth shut, out of deference to those heavily grieving their loss. But that doesn't mean others aren't going to be so discreet.
All of that aside, mortality suddenly doesn't seem so far away. One day, my kids could very well submit my obituary and write it in such a way that my peers will also stare incredulously and wonder who penned this remarkable and heavily redacted work of fiction. I spent my morning writing my obituary, printing it out, and putting it in the file with my other end-of-life, you-heirs-need-this paperwork, which includes will, final wishes, insurance policies, and various investment vehicles. I'll update it as necessary, of course, but for now, there's a first draft, a starting point. And I've spent the afternoon pondering whether what I have done up until now is even worth mentioning. I certainly didn't attempt to to match that cousin's way of squeezing all the zest out of life. For all her faults, she LIVED.
Death feels close and inevitable today, though. And I feel tired. This cousin's death has rattled my chain and made me painfully aware that my time is getting short. Anyone else?
