an epilogg reflecting life

First thing every morning, my dad used to scan the obituary section of the local newspaper.  He’d say, “If I don’t see my name, it’s a good day.” True.   I’ve taken to reading the obituaries too, though not every day.  It’s a rather strange experience to be looking through a list of dead people for someone you know.  I find most obits are cold, short death notices that tell you when there might be a service or how to send a memorial donation to the deceased’s favorite charity.  Valuable information yes, but not really an end of life exclamation point,

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an epilogg would be nice

If I died today, I’m sure my nearly 60 years of life would be summed up in an obituary a couple of paragraphs long.  I’m stoic by nature, so the humble understatement should probably be considered a compliment or at least appropriate.  I think the obituary I wrote when my dad died was about four paragraphs. My dad was 90. It took a lot of effort to squish 90 years of living into four short paragraphs when the military and relatives took up two of them.  It certainly didn’t do justice to a life well-lived but I’m sure my dad

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epilogg: home to eulogy no one heard

I’m often terrible remembering names and details so it’s surprising how distinctly I can still remember when I heard the news that a loved one died or how vividly I can recall the last time I saw them alive.   Jennie was one of those people.  I don’t remember her obituary. I do remember her eulogy no one heard. Jennie was like another grandmother to me growing up. I saw her almost every day.  When she died, I was in college across the state line. I remember riding the first bus home for her funeral.  It was dark, rumbling down the

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