OBITUARY MANIA
As I grow older, I find myself changing. I am currently 84 years, eyeing 85 in just a few months.
One of the strange habits I have developed in the past couple of years is reading the obituaries in the local newspaper. I want to see who has died, who was older than me when he died, and who was younger. At 84-and-2/3rds, I am much closer to the end than I was at any time before in my life. And that’s fine. I have done a lot of crazy and foolish stuff in my life that is convincing and clear evidence that I do not fear death.
My problem is this: Despite all the aches and pains of old age, the endless daily parade of pills, drops, blood thinners, and medical syrups that are part of my every-day life – I am really having a good time right now.
In fact, this is actually the very best time of my life.
I have a woman who loves me, cooks for me, and treats me with her special kit of blood stoppers, bandages, and coagulants when I spring a leak. Best of all, she shares my bed each and every night – and sometimes in the afternoon.
Carmela turns 70 this year. She walks 3-to-5 miles a day, exercises daily, and does yoga. My wife has declared that she expects me to live another 10 years. She has not changed that 10-year mantra in the last five years that she’s been saying it. And if you talk to her in another five or so years, she’ll insist, it’s “another 10 years.” She is very adamant about it. She does not look forward to being a widow.
But when we mention that to doctors – their response is more measured, although not necessarily encouraging. A cross between: “well, good for you,” and “let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.”
So, what’s my reaction? I read the obituaries in the local newspapers whenever I find one lying around at a coffee shop or restaurant. And I divide the obits into people who died younger than me and people who died older.
The sad fact is the listing of people who died older than me keeps getting shorter, and the listing of obituaries for people who died younger keeps growing. I also notice that most of the people who died older than me were women. Not fair, but women for the most part, live longer than men so a woman dying at an age older than me is less impressive than a man dying older than me.
Why do I care?
I’m not sure. Partially morbid curiosity, partially a life-long quirk of trying to fit reality into some kind of pattern, but mostly because I love my wife.
Dying is the easy part. Being left behind is where the pain resides.
So, I will continue to read the obits – partially for entertainment, but mostly to remind myself that all good things come to an end, no matter how much we may enjoy them.
– George Lee Cunningham
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