(Song on link above is courtesy of Monty Python).
I was commenting on Laura’s blog the other day on the death of Geoffrey Perkins and how sloppy and well, random, the ending of his life. A hit and run driver in his case. And I thought of the random ending of most lives.
And I pondered - morbid,I know - on what mine would be like.
The likelihood of a run in with a moose in my car here is rather high and the results can be rather messy - to all concerned in the collision. However, “Squashed by a Moose” steals much from the dignity of an obituary.
I climb with my granddaughter and the old pins can be less steady than once they waxed -but thankfully not yet waned - but one never knows. I could tumble down a mountain in front of her horrified eyes. Memorable that would be. But the darling one traumatized until she tosses off this mortal coil (“And just how did your granny die, dear?”) would be a high price to pay.
My dear, departed friends and younger extended family members have been struck with cancers, an aneurism, a car accident, infections post surgery, a sudden fatal heart attack at forty- two, suicides, alcoholism. Nothing overly dramatic amongst all of them. Just all too sad and too soon. Even the suicides were a quiet leave-taking with no dramatic notes left behind.
I then thought of the headers on the obituary I would like:
“Drowned at sea on her last solo sail at the age of ninety-two.”
“Keeled over, quite happily, at her latest book signing at the age of ninety.”
“Due to her failing eye sight, inadvertently stabbed herself with a knitting needle upon completion of her latest knitted art project at the age of one hundred and ten.”
“Laughed herself into a fatal coma at the house of friends at the age of ninety-one.”
“While in the last two miles of the Boston Marathon, the only one in her class and gender, in the tenth hour, at the age of ninety five, she lay down, exhausted, and died.”
“At the age of eighty nine, she fell off a scaffolding in her dining room while painting her ceiling a crimson red.”
Now what would yours be?
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Death is nothing but the next great adventure! :-D But I prefer to die the natural way. Hehehe.
ReplyDeleteWelcome R!
ReplyDeleteWhat is the natural way then?
How few actually accomplish it?
XO
WWW
"RJ died from acute heart failure, in his sleep, after a vigorous night of sex with a twenty-two year old nymphomaniac beauty queen. He was one hundred and twenty-six years old."
ReplyDeleteWell, I can dream, can't I?
I wouldn't mind tumbling down a mountain at 93. I would have died pursuing one of my great pleasures. In fact dying while enjoying myself would be the ideal way to go. Much better than falling under a bus or succumbing to pneumonia.
ReplyDeleteThe USA's oldest female astronaut, aged 109, expired peacefully as the space capsule drifted slowly down into the Pacific. Her cremated remains will be carried on the next mission and scattered among the stars.
ReplyDelete:-D
RJA:
ReplyDeleteMore power to your, ahem, elbow!
--------------------------------
Nick:
I so agree, with the old boots on, no better way!
--------------------------------
Oh yes, T:
I can see you now!
Beautifully said, my dear!
--------------------------------
XO
WWW
Blimey WWW - what a strange train of thought - Geoffrey Perkins moves in mysterious ways!
ReplyDeleteI like yours though!
Trying to match any of them is another matter.
'Died of sheer happiness' would be the ultimate I think.
'Killed by boredom and digital TV overdose' is probably more likely.
That's me, Laura, no one can audit my brain trails!
ReplyDeleteYou bored?
I find that very hard to believe.
Keeping poeting.
XO
WWW
That should be "keep", cor-blimey.
ReplyDelete