by Kate Willoughby Hall, CEO/Founder of Richmondmom.com. Mom-of-three, lover-of-life.
Every Sunday, at least when we’re in town, we read the newspaper. Sipping coffee, my husband seperates the sections, immediately handing me mine: those with the brides, fashion, and events. Oh, and the obituaries.
That’s right. While to some it may seem obtuse, to me it’s a reflection on the life that others have lived.
There’s a 42-year-old who died suddenly, leaving two children behind. This causes me to cradle my family a bit closer. There’s a 98-year-old woman who passed away in her sleep, after a good and charitable life. That makes me smile. There’s a young man whose life got cut short at 18 due to violence. That stabs my chest.
For years, my husband thought I had some odd fixation on death; that the photos and stories of another’s life weren’t mean for my entertainment, but for recognition of friends and family. On the contrary, for me, people have always been my hobby. While he is fixated on boats and cars (how they work and run, rebuilding them, etc), machinery (that’s his business, and he’s mechanically inclined), I’ve always had a fascination with the stories of other human beings.
It’s said that every day we live is one step closer to dying. I’m not sure I’d like to look at life from this viewpoint. By reading the snapshots of the lives who have gone before me, I’m offered me a glimpse into the legacy of another’s, and make me stop and reflect on what my own obituary will someday read. Will my children say what I’d want them to say about me? My husband? My mom, brother, and sisters, friends? Was I a good person, did I care enough, give enough, say enough? To the last one, the answer is probably a resouding yes.
And then it’s enjoying the luxury of turning the pages to look back to the brides, the movies, and what’s going on today: life.
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