Live your Obituary

Yesterday I set the timer on my phone to indulge in 15 minutes of Facebook. This practice keeps my addiction to mindless procrastination to a minimum.  I was reminded of something I wrote for a local newspaper a few years ago.  I think those "on this day" memories are the best thing about Facebook. What a great retrospection of my blessings, progress, or in some cases, I confess, regression.  However, it's all good.  It's like a home video of my life, mostly highlights, but occasionally a little venting, opinions, and whining just to ensure authenticity.   As I've gotten older I have given some thought to dying, which doesn't scare me near as much as living does some days.  Recently, I've put in place a few preparations and practices; I gave my daughter a copy of my last wishes, and my prayer every morning is to heal any relationship or wound that is mine to heal so I can enter heaven with a clean conscience. Somehow I thought I had to be clear about the "mine to heal" part, as if God didn't know I am the consummate people pleaser, often making amends just to be liked, or because I have an aversion to discord. I am a bit of a believer in reincarnation and I don't want to have to come back and experience all the judgments, unkindness, and rejection I have doled out to others. In my fantasies, I imagine Donald Trump coming back as a black, Muslim, immigrant woman in a poor family in Alabama. Hey, I just said earlier, I am in conversations with God on this judgement defect.   Besides, the question of past and future lives is a topic for another day.  I know it's a controversial one for many Christians. But, my crazy brain keeps telling me its worth exploring, if nothing else to help me be accountable for my actions while I am living.  I mean, when Jesus came back after the Resurrection and before the Ascension, his own disciples did not recognize him. Same Divine soul, different body. Enough. Here's my article from four years ago.

My Obituary 

by Becky Mahoney

I think someone jostled my endocrine gland during my recent surgery sending a surge of crazed hormones to event plan a really fine pity party- just for me!  I’ve been to those kind of parties before and do not enjoy the hangover. So, I pulled out my own mood altering, drug-free, drugs; inspirational websites, books, plenty of prayer, a little meditation, and some of my old journals and writings. Those tools usually set my gratitude into motion again.

I stumbled on something I wrote in 2006.  Then, it didn’t seem to be such a big deal, rather a time gobbling exercise.  It was a homework project assigned by my therapist. One thing you should know about me, I don’t think there is anything honorable about suffering, and martyrdom is not a stylish label I’m interested in wearing.  In simpler terms, I am not adverse to availing myself of some professional guidance and clarity when the road ahead gets foggy.  I consider it an option to reach out to someone who might help me turn off the fog machine. Life is too precious.  This time though, I recall being a little miffed. I was paying the professional to fix my life.  He expected me to do homework?  Furthermore, it was just plain creepy.  He told me to write my own obituary.  I had no idea what a timeless gift this wonderful mentor gave me.  

I waited until the night before to complete my assignment.   Two typewritten pages, front and back. Wow, I thought, I better be designating big bucks in my Last Will and Testament to publish this one; in the New York Times of course.  Because, if you read my imaginary obituary, my life will be notable.  Maybe not notable as in, Mother Theresa, or Nelson Mandela, but certainly it was in the plan to make greater contributions than Kim Kardashian or a Real Housewife. 

The first sentence read, “Rebecca Sue Puhr, Klein, Heidtke, Marino, Mahoney, passed on to her real home for regrouping before her next life.”  I know what you’re thinking. Cut me some slack.  In spite of all those names, I’ve been married only twice and the second one died.  It’s the history behind all those names that have turned my obituary into a four page commentary on a life well-lived.  It went on to read,  “She was 82 years old, still bleached her hair blonde and wore bright, shiny lipstick, just so she could leave lip prints on her loved ones and totally annoy her son-in-law.  At her visitation, it is reported that people waited in line for hours just to catch a glimpse of the veiny, yet still shapely leg, dangling over the side of the casket; the tiny foot sporting a hot pink stiletto.   Rebecca entered the world an old soul, both eyes wide, inquisitively searching for the meaning of life from her first breath.  A tiny free spirit, willing to try anything once, she was the first in her kindergarten class to eat escargot and climb to the top of the monkey bars.  A true adventurer, the price of great exploit was never too high for her, and she willingly accepted any discipline, rightfully  doled out by authority figures as a result of her risk taking.  It was all about curiosity and exploration. As a young girl, she was grounded for a good part of her teenage years.  She joked, “The dog got out more than I did.”  And, so it continued, my obituary-  painting a picture, tracing a path, charting a future. 

The questions posed by my therapist to evoke thought, were this simple.  What do you want your life to look like when you get to the end?  What do you want others to remember about you?  What will you leave behind?   This obituary has been a guiding force in my life ever since.  It’s a poignant reminder of where I came from, what has formed me, what I can change, and what I want my legacy to be. I can choose.   Who knows what the next 20+ years will  bring?  Maybe I’ll add another last name. Maybe I’ll make the NY Times Bestseller list.  Or, maybe I will just be remembered as an adventurous spirit, who loved people and life and did her best. 

You know, that Rebecca Sue Puhr, Klein, Heidtke, Marino, Mahoney lady, well, she is quite a character and I’m really glad I got to know her.  Now back to the business of doing my best to become her.  By the way, the last line in my obituary reads, Surrounded by family and friends at the moment of her passing, its reported they heard a soft whisper, “WooHoo, this is awesome!  See ya, I don’t think I’m coming back for quite some time!”

Write your own obituary- create your own life.