An obituary. Not.

I don’t do a lot of challenges these days. Life itself has become far too challenging. But I stumbled across this one this morning via The Bag Lady and it appealed to me – most likely because it’s not about life and all those challenges.

Oh …. and the picture. You’re probably wondering what that’s about. I thought I might go out in drag. Why not?


There will be no obituary. It has been less than an instant, in the scheme of things. Nothing to talk about. Nothing to see here. Please move quietly along.

Will I linger somehow in the your memories? Yes? Perhaps just for another tiny piece of that instant, but no more. Memories will fade even more quickly than the light.

You might all gather around and exchange vague anecdotes together. And thus attempt to paint me a brighter colour in death than I had ever exhibited in life. Please don’t bother. Everything turns to grey eventually.

I’ll be dead.

I won’t care.

And not caring is something that I’ve come to look forward to.


10 thoughts on “An obituary. Not.

  1. Oh no, you’re having an existential crisis!! Just promise me something. If you die and then discover that you still exist (as spirit, or whatever), then come and send me a message!! I live for such odd experiences.


  2. Those red shoes are beguiling, and it makes me wonder if the body loved them–but they are so new-looking–or it is an idea of a survivor as to what the person might want. I have also never seen an open casket with the feet crossed and jaunty on their own pillow like that–


  3. In drag, great idea! The funny thing I’ve seen in funerals is the crazy way they are talked about, made up this and that you know never happened. All of a sudden the person is a saint. I’m no saint and anyone who knows me knows that. Just one reason I hate funerals. If the person was an SOB than don’t try to make them something they weren’t.


  4. Yesterday I died.
    A grand affair it was.
    So glad I stopped by.

    Long unvisited faces
    Peered with tears.
    Friendship scanned
    In slanting glances.
    Briefly-Known intently studied.
    Were his glasses muddy?
    Dearly-Beloved — the challenge supreme.
    I didn’t move for fear she’d scream.

    Then the colors blurred.
    The music faded; the voices stopped.
    No one stirred.

    Now the black is everywhere.
    No more to do but lie and stare.

    Wrote this MANY years ago! Just seemed apropos to add to your comment section. 😀


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