The Obituary

 

You know I really don’t want one; however, it’s eventually going to happen. I picture my walking off into some blizzard never to be found again or for some time. And the obituary would be delayed and become some miniscule line of, “…apparently her bones were found after the January thaw… She leaves behind two adult children, two squirrels, a bunny rabbit and a dog castrated and limping, as her husband predeceased her many years ago.” By the way, you’re supposed to laugh at that.

I have pictured that would be the end of whoever me was. Numerous years ago, I had a friend who was about 33 years my senior. This is not unusual for me. Most of my truly good friends in my adult life have been six to 33 years my senior.

I write of my obituary in such a way to find humor, because for some, death can be sad and I despise sadness. I’d rather make people laugh. I enjoy watching people succeed. Albeit, usually in sport, but in business that works too; however, for a successful business it’s a tame gesture from me. Because who ever heard of someone yelling, “Yes! You’ve got the promotion!” You beat the other guys/gals!” And to continue yelling in an orgasmic fashion, “Yes! Yes!! Yes!!!” I may feel that way for someone getting an advance in business or improving their health. Yet, being so expressive would seem quite out of context. My brother and I perhaps would jokingly say, ‘men in little white coats would come and take me away.’

The original thought that came to mind this morning, was about a friend who’d passed in September 2024. Actually, I lost two people within 24 hours of each other at that time. One was age 81 and the other was 95. The 81-year-old, I hadn’t seen since about June 2023. Over the brief period of nine years I’d known him, we had a few private talks in a boxing gym where he’d train mostly young men primarily for boxing events, like The Golden or Diamond Glove matches. I did know his time was limited as he had expressed it to me in 2022. I believe he had emphysema. He’d trained pro boxers as well. His friend who’d passed around June 10^th, 2023, had been my boxing coach, Steve. Steve missed his 81^st birthday that year by just over a month. I was in the woods doing work for AmeriCorps in upstate New York that week and weekend when his friend my friend texted me about Steve’s death.

The 95-year-old who’d died, passed just the day before the boxing trainer had in September 2024. She was the one who’d I’d thought of this morning—after contemplating my missing my husband who’d passed now over five years ago. I spoke with her seven weeks before her passing, she didn’t sound right, it was three days before her 95^th birthday. I was used to speaking with her every six to eight weeks. We would be on the phone for well over an hour. I’d seen her last October 7^th, 2023, when I’d visited her in Keene, New Hampshire. I took her out to a Greek restaurant, that she’d picked out ahead of time when she knew I was coming up to see her. I said, “…my treat. I’m taking you out for dinner Saturday night October 7^th.” She was always sharp as a tack. I’d known her since 1991. Some may have viewed it as an odd way to develop a friendship, that is the way we met. But I gather it’s possible to meet someone in a time of tragedy even as a professional and eventually become friends.

The way I’ve made friends was usually out running, waving to people who’ve seen me out running daily before or after work. They’re usually not runners. Comically, it’s as if I just run into people while running or in a city I’d just run in as I’d walk back to my hotel room, or whilst taking classes for business, or perhaps while food shopping. Too, in a fight gym or after a tragedy had struck one of us and one was helping the other in some fashion. That’s how I’ve made friends most times.

So, this one friend age 95 who’d passed in September 2024 had told me over the years that she’d often read the obituaries. I started doing this every so often since before 2019. I wondered who out there had I written about in my non-fiction books or created as a fictious character in my fiction novels had lost touch with me, yet hopefully they were still alive. Many times, it was because I wanted to share with them what I’d written, what they’d influenced in my writing and then thank them for the opportunity of their being in my life.

The more I wrote, the more I read the obituaries. I’d found people who’d died, and no one contacted me about their death. Some who died years before and other friends and acquaintance who knew we had been friends for years, and yet, not a phone call, not a note, not a text. Nothing. I wondered what it was at that point in either their lives or the people who were our common acquaintances that kept them from letting me know of our friend’s passing.

The only thing I could comprehend was I was out of their loop; however, I surmised for some that, that was crazy. I thought of a host of other excuses, most of which made no sense. Only one thought would be, was that they’d thought someone else would’ve told me because they themselves were too overwhelmed with emotion. Also, the circle of friends and relations these people had were so big, that’d it would have been a tall order for them to contact everyone including me. I’d like to think that.

What brought me to this point this morning upon waking was since mid-August, there have been a total of two deaths, four people having strokes, one person a week ago having triple bypass surgery and another person who I hadn’t had spoken with in over two years to find out that their spouse had a stroke two years ago. To top that all off, was of all eight instances of death or much near death seven involved men and four instances involved people in their mid-fifties. I thought for a second that was odd. Then I’d realized diet, lack of movement, work/family stressors and perhaps pre-existing conditions I’d not known of were the culprits. I also realized then that 13% of our high school graduating class by the 45^th year after graduation are the statistic of who would be dead by the time that high school reunion would be celebrated. I found out that statistic about eighteen years ago. It could’ve changed over the last decade, but who knows.

Too, this year I had much loss in various ways, including all three of our pets. And oddly enough, as I am someone who rarely if ever cries at funerals, I’d held off on feeling my full sorrow after my husband passed as our daughters needed me to get them through their remaining years of high school. Then to tackle college visits and decisions amidst the Covid pandemic.

It was as I closed one business, started a new one, took classes for my professional license, and did more volunteer work. Too, doing chores that now encompassed covering my deceased husband’s chores of raking and mowing our one-acre lawn. Also, repairing things like our doors, the deck, de-stumping our backyard, a host of other improvements, I had to do myself to save money. It was like I was on speed dial to hurry up and learn how to redo our kitchen, our deck, taking down wallpaper in one of our bathrooms, spackle, hand sand, prime and paint walls, doors, shutters, put in new door sweeps and take care of our three small pets, two of which were litter-trained, free-range bunnies contained in three rooms. Basically, I was too busy to cry, to get upset over any losses until it began to hit me in mid-December 2023. It was whilst I shredded documents for four hours and cleaned out 60% of our attic for another four that day. I wondered as I shredded and cried that day if I should be shredding while blurry eyed with tears for hours. I reminded myself that I hadn’t stopped running and that the shredder had a safety on it. So, I forged ahead, only sitting back once to howl out my misery of loss in near collapse on the kitchen floor. I shook my head and laughed as I thought that was bad. I’d pained plenty times before from losses; however, I wondered when this would ease a bit so I could feel less stoic and more joy.

In the end, I think the lesson here was, the pains of loss may ease over days, time variations, holidays and so forth. However, if you truly love someone, a pet, and what have you eventually the sadness has to come out or perhaps your body will stop you from moving, and creating in so many ways.---Jody-Lynn Reicher