I start my day by reading the obituaries 

Even, I admit, when I should be praying or reading the Bible

But something about the pull of the deceased is unrivaled 

I calculate people’s ages based on the dates given 

If not explicitly written

I ascertain the cause of death: “old age” for the lucky, neurological disease for the unlucky, various cancers 

But I think the unspoken causes are scarier: maybe suicide? accidental drowning? car accident? drug overdose?

My favorite obituaries are on the websites of the funeral homes

There the pictures of the deceased aren’t just in black and white

Sometimes there’s a pink rose or a rainbow

My favorite, though, are the shots of the deceased living: holding a bass fish in each hand; a smiling face with a background of water, sun and sand; the person holding a baseball cap and bat or decorating a cake or kissing a canine 

I like reading about what each person did with his or her time 

Some people lived with cancer for years 

Some are remembered for their tears – of laughter 

And some will be immortalized by those who come after 

Because of their big hearts

Some have no blood relatives 

But a long list of close friends and neighbors that were so delicate 

So they held them dear and with them spent all their vibrant years 

Around here, everyone is linked to the military 

So some of the men are in Marine uniforms

Or in airplanes 

I’m sure some would say that’s what made their name 

Some of the names I recognize 

Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn’t – a surprise

I work in health care 

And as the old wisdom teachers would say: life is not fair 

I think about all the people I knew 

It’s terrible what Alzheimer’s and ALS can do 

Can those of us left behind still believe in God?

I ponder my best friends who were robbed 

By heart disease 

Surely death is a thief 

And not to make this about me – but I wonder what my obituary photo will be 

I wonder if God keeps stock like I do 

Are those black-and-white newspaper cut outs hanging on His bulletin board?

And I wonder when there will be no more

Because something I see is that in every culture death is tragedy

When will the land run out of space?

I ponder my own fate 

The dash between birth and death is a form of the wait

I keep scrolling through the pictures on the funeral home page 

Maybe this life is just a stage 

I finally mosey on over to the Bible 

And to a talk with God 

I and all creation are longing for a great revival 

I’ve got some hope 

Jesus’s obituary speaks clearly 

All those colorful photos of the deceased are just the beginning 

This story reminds me that despite the odds I see, God is winning 

Each day I, you, write our own obituary 

Even right now, while alive, you and I can rest in peace