For years I have read the obituaries. I read them in at home, the town where I was born and sometimes, when I'm on vacation, I glance at them. My husband asked me why I read the obituaries pointing out I really know very few people here in Oceanside and if they did in fact die then I would be sure to know about their death therefore I would not have to read about it.
Maybe its because I grew up in a small town and when a "local" died, I would still read their obit even though I probably knew their whole lifestory. My parents did the same, after our dinner while I cleared the table my mom would read the Rome Sentinel out loud for my dad and me. She felt we needed to be brought up to speed on from everything such as home sales, any bankruptcy, who did not pay their taxes - you know the "gossip" . Generally I could care a less about that nonsense but when she read the obituaries, my hearing perked up a bit and I definitely listened a little better. She would go on and say "oh so and so died", did you know that he/she was married to so and so and she is so and so's blank and they live in so and so. Usually her reporting ended with "oh, that's to bad, he/she was a "good egg". A good egg? I used to think that was an odd comparison but non the less, he/she was a good egg.
We all were born, we all will die. My father used to say nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes. . I know, he stole the line from Ben Franklin but he ALWAYS used to say it like he was the original author.
About 6 years ago, I went home to visit my parents for the weekend before they started school the next week. I remember sitting at the kitchen table reading the local paper while my dad enjoyed a cup of coffee. My dad had had a rough ride lately and he was trying to regain his strength from a stroke he had a year prior. I looked at my dad and said that there was "good news" (in the paper). He asked what the good news was and I said I was reading the obituaries and he wasn't in it. My dad laughed and replied that yes indeed that was good news. Three days later, my dad died and 5 days later my his name was in the obituaries. I read his obituary even though I so knew his "story".
My point is that for 100% of the people I read about in the obits, they ALL have a story. They all were born, some of they were given a silver spoon, some of them got a plastic spork. One of the things I notice most often when I read the obits is if they were "young" and when I say young, I mean younger than me (obviously that criteria changes yearly). When I see someone who is 90, I actually feel very happy because I feel that they had a long life and they must have had a lot of fun living it or at least I hope they did. Not everyone gets that chance, some die long before they get that chance.
I like to believe that everyone has a story and each and everyone of them loved and was loved by someone. Someone who will miss them very much so. Have you ever thought about writing your own obit?
I remember sitting with my Mom and brother on dad's bed trying hard to "sum" up his life in 4 paragraphs. 19 weeks later, I remember sitting on the same bed with just my brother trying to do the same for my mother. It was very hard, and I'm sure I missed quite a few "key" points that should have been noted.
All I know is that I loved them very much as someone does for those strangers I read about. Everyone has a story, I sure hope mine ends with "she was a good egg".
