What Do You Want Your Obituary to Say?
Who Are You at Your Essence?
August 14, 2024
by Jennifer Finch, M.A., LPC, NCC, SEP
What do you want your obituary to say?
In grad school, we were once given an assignment to write our own obituary. I can’t recall the exact class—maybe it was Family Systems, or perhaps it was during our study of family constellations where we were examining our birth order. My classmates and I were up for the assignment, it seemed dark, devious, flirting with our own death, yet inspiring, creative, and full of hope and possibility at the same time.
Graduate students typically hold the balance between the discovery of our outlandish selves and finding our strong voice, but we also realize our immersion in an environment eager to please the teacher. So, the task, unfortunately, remained academic, at least most of us approached it as such, listing our achievements like a résumé: Captain of the dance team, treasurer of the student body, founder of the school’s Environmental Club, a longtime member and active volunteer of the Sierra Club, etc. etc.
Recently, I found myself reading the obituary of a family member, and to my dismay, it felt strikingly similar to that old assignment. It wasn’t that it was poorly written—on the contrary, it was well-composed—but it captured only the surface, the shell of a life, a string of roles and accomplishments that barely touched the essence of the person. Achievements that were achieved more than 30 years ago, and without any context of relative time.
I am not sabotaging the obituary or its beautiful authors. Trying to capture the entirety of a life in two paragraphs is like trying to stuff an overpacked suitcase—no matter how hard you press, something essential is bound to spill out. The truth is, summing up a person in a few neatly written lines is an exercise in futility. It would be like trying to describe a sunset by its coordinates. Life is messy, glorious, and far too expansive for the confines of a word limit. And honestly, if someone manages to squeeze all of me into a couple of paragraphs, I might have to haunt them just for sport.
But reading it did make me reflect on that graduate school assignment now. After 25 years of working on my spiritual path, I realize how differently I would approach it today. If we left the ego out of the equation and focused on capturing the spirit, the heartbeat of an individual, how would our obituaries read?
For me, I would hope mine would say something like this: She was often caught dancing barefoot in the kitchen, carefree, without a bra. She spent her last days at a music festival with her family, dancing like a hippie in a field until her final breath. Somewhere in those lines, I’d want it mentioned that she took pride in being a true friend and as a result, was blessed with friends who loved her deeply in return. She had deep and lasting friendships with a few women from grade school, with whom she spoke on a weekly and often daily basis. But she also didn’t suffer fools lightly. She let go of those who couldn’t embrace her fully for who she was, recognizing toxicity in others and choosing not to waste time worrying about their opinions. This freed her to live authentically, as she was—unapologetically, wholeheartedly, and without compromise.
She worked tirelessly at being the best mother she could be, filled with love and compassion, doing everything in her power to ensure that her children would be free from the chains of her own anxieties, from the weight of her own traumas and from any unconscious intergenerational or familial trauma. She dedicated herself to cultivating security, openness, and love within herself, so she could shine that light on others, like a perfectly tuned camera lens capturing the world’s beauty. She was an explorer, an adventurer, and always up for the activity, whatever it may be. In fact, in her ripe old age, just last week she was spotted “ostrich racing,” where people actually ride ostriches in a race, trying to stay balanced on these large, fast, and unpredictable birds as they sprint down a track.
Just to note here, I’m not into ostrich racing, not yet anyway, but merely want to work on living more outlandishly as I age.
Although we never really know, I don’t plan on needing an obituary any time soon, but this is more of the essence of what I aspire to be. And knowing this, I want to spend my moments wisely, with intention, so I can truly embody this essence in every breath. I’m far from mastering it. I still feel anxiety, still catch myself passing on moods and traits that irritate and annoy those around me. As well as myself. I’m human, after all, and full of flaws. But I’m learning to catch myself sooner, to align with my better self, my higher self, more quickly.
This journey requires letting go of my former ego-driven self and unraveling the teachings of academia that conditioned us to believe we are nothing more than a collection of achievements on paper. Is this how we want to be remembered? Aren’t we all aiming for something higher, something truer? If you find yourself caught in the identity of collecting accolades, what would it feel like to let them all go?
What is the essence of who you are, or who you aspire to be, at your best?
Be Here. And Be Now.
Jen
If you would like to begin or deepen your spiritual journey so you can live from your essence, check out my upcoming RP Retreat this fall.
In Person at The Heal Center in Atlanta, GA (Sandy Springs)
Address: 270 Carpenter Dr NE Suite 500-505, Atlanta, GA 30328
With Jennifer Finch, NCC, LPC, SEP, Senior RP Teacher
November 14 - 17, 2024
Schedule:
Thursday, Nov. 14: 5:30 pm - 8:00 pm
Friday + Saturday, Nov. 15 +16: 8:30 am - 5:00 pm with lunch break
Sunday, Nov. 17: 8:30 am - 12:00 noon
