I am finally lying in bed, good wine buzz, sleeping family, and now I have a moment to think. Of course I am dark and twisty inside, so my head instantly goes to imagining my own death. I start to wonder about my personal impact. While trying to identify a personal definition, I decide to rely on the perceptions of others.
I imagine (and hope) my epitaph would end up with these simple truths, etched into granite, on my behalf:
- She could out-drink you until you were 6-feet under. Strange how that worked out.
- Thank God her kids turned out ok…well ok’ish.
- Hey ladies, her husband is single now.
- She made an incredible impact… with her carbon footprint.
- A wife, a mother, a friend, a sister, a daughter, a sarcastic bitch.
- She often laughed at her own jokes and look where she is now.
- Not known for style or grace but for a wit that only appealed to a special few.
- Loved the community, as long as they did not expect anything out of her.
- We only miss her because she had a truck and brought beer.
- She tried many things, finished very few, accomplished even less.
- Knock, knock. Who’s there? …
- Funny, sometimes… well, we humored her.
- Finally, some decent sleep.
- You know I can see you, right?
- She couldn’t keep a clean house but certainly can now.
- At least her dogs miss her.
- I hope her nose does not itch.
- A terrible sense of style but impeccable taste in judgment.
- You’re lucky I went first.
- She smoked, she drank, she swore, she finally saw the ocean, she wins.
- I wouldn’t live in my old house if I were you.
- Everyone is surprised it wasn’t her liver.
- Karma: “You’re lucky I was busy.”
- Wings or a broom? Well, that depended on the day.
- Her death was tragic. We only laughed a little.
- Walked on, mowed over, and only receives flowers on her birthday. You would think she was still alive.
Basically, I am hoping to leave some sort of mark on the world. If that mark is nothing more than increasing laughter, at my own expense, so be it.
Tired Not Dead 