Last month, during a Zoom gathering about forming a more comfortable relationship with death, I suggested that we might, as an existential exercise, write a different kind of obituary and share some of them during a future gathering.

The idea was born from a conversation with my therapist about grief and how strange it is to be abruptly cut off from communication with someone after they die. With the loss of my Mother, for the very first time, I had a different experience. My siblings and I had the unbelievable blessing of finding a note from her after she passed. Our Mother wanted us to know that she wasn’t afraid to die and that she didn’t want us to be sad because she would be “dancing with angels.” Her thoughtful message provided a kind of comfort that I can’t even put into words, and the conversation with my therapist inspired me to follow her lead. I decided that I not only wanted to say goodbye to my loved ones, I wanted to leave a message for those who have read my words over the years, too. So I would write a different kind of obituary before I died.

A small percentage of people write their own obituaries. Some use the process as a way to review their lives and to leave a legacy of lessons learned. Others do it because they want to make it easier on their families who have enough to deal with once they’re gone. I appreciate this perspective. I like the idea of not burdening loved ones with having to write an obituary while in a state of shock and sorrow. I’d had that experience, and it’s an odd, painful distraction.

As Michael and I finish up our estate planning, I’m adding a brief letter to our end-of-life documents. I’m sharing my thoughts on death, the life I’ve lived, and what I hope people will remember when I’m gone. I plan to update this letter once a year as a ritual of reflection that captures how my thoughts and feelings have evolved as I age.

This week, I’ll host a Zoom gathering on this topic. I invite you to join me to offer your thoughts about crafting your own end-of-life message, one that can enhance the quality of your life while you’re still here. If you’ve written your own letter (or do so after reading this blog), you’re welcome to share it with our group. We’ll meet on Wednesday, April 15^th at 3pm ET/12 noon PT. If you’ve joined us before, you’ll get the invite. If not, you can sign up here.

For those of you worried that I might be tempting fate by writing this blog, you’re not alone. The mind does a terrific job of generating thoughts that keep us from talking about death. But avoidance isn’t a self-care strategy. It’s a way to fuel fear.

The mind is a trickster and I know it. I’m ignoring the thought and encouraging you to join me for a deeper conversation about how facing death invites us to live a richer, more courageous life.

Love,

Cheryl