On movies and TV shows about up-and-coming reporters you hear jokes about reporters who start their careers writing obituaries, and obituary writing is treated as something less than "real" writing because obituaries have a standard format and are typically filled with facts that call for (and allow) little creativity. You open with a paragraph announcing that the person died, when they died, where they died, and how old they were when they died, and on a rare occasion someone might add how they died. The following paragraph lists surviving family members. The next paragraph cites family members who died before, and the obituary closes with the details of the funeral or memorial service and where to send donations or condolences to the family. I can see how that would be pretty dry, and how reporters faced with that task would do just about anything they could to move up to something else.
However, some newspapers allow family members to write the obituary themselves and to add a paragraph between the introductory "just the facts" paragraph and the paragraph about surviving family members that tells the reader a little something about the person's life. Mom's whole obituary was 350 words. The paragraph about her life was 138 words.
138 words to capture the essence of 65 years of living, loving, learning, grieving, rejoicing, teaching, giving, laughing, worshiping, crying, sharing, taking, risking, and surviving. 138 words to try to convey to the world the sense of loss I felt in those days after mom left us. 138 words to help people who would never meet her understand how this world has been a better place because she was here. 138 words to help people who knew her remember what a difference she made and all the things she did and the roles she played during the times of her life before and after her life intersected with theirs. 138 words to describe her life for the archives of history--the official written record of her life and death. 138 words to say goodbye.
When I wrote my grandmother's obituary, I felt a sense of pride as I researched the life she lived as a young woman, and all the things she accomplished. I was pleased with how what I had written represented grandma's life. Even the hint of missing emotion in the list of facts about her life seemed to appropriately mirror the emotional distance my grandmother maintained between herself and those around her, even most members of her family. While it wasn't the best writing I've ever done, I thought I did well.
But mom's obituary was different. At the time I wrote it (and rewrote it and rewrote it and…) I knew it wasn't good enough. Even now, almost 4 years later, when I look at it I feel like I let her down. I had 140 words. In the middle of a highly restricted 350 word obituary to say anything I wanted about her life in any way that I wanted to say it. And what I came up with was a list of things she had done in her life. While it was accurate, it didn't capture her, and that's what makes me sad today.
I thought about rewriting it at some point, not because anybody else cares, but because I think I could do better now that the intense fog of grief has lifted. No, I know I can do better. When I think about it I can hear mom's voice in my head saying two things concurrently – "If you think you can do better, then rewrite it" and "It really doesn't matter; the people who loved me, the people who mattered, knew who I was."
In my defense (or maybe I'm just justifying a poor writing job), I think it's nearly impossible to capture the essence of the person's life in 140 words or less. Even so, when I think of my mom, a few single word descriptors rise to the top as the best way to summarize her life: Love. Joy. Fear. Resilience. Service.
That was Mom.
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