The Obituaries

The obituaries; an entire life reduced to a few paragraphs in a monochromatic medium in someone's hands as they drink their morning coffee. Is it disrespectful if one ignores the obituaries? Is it morbid curiosity if one doesn't? Sometimes the names go on and on; Carpenter, Bowman, Heishman, Martinez, Pastrano, Gordon, Gonzales, Oliver, Fry, Garrett, Hunter. On most days, though, only a few names "grace" that day's roll call of the dead. Occasionally, I peruse that particular section to ensure that I am not listed there (sounds like an old joke, doesn't it?).

Sadly, I do sometimes see a familiar face. I work in a hospital, so that is to be expected. "Oh no, Ms. R died. Didn't I just speak to her three days ago?" She was a talker and I thought I was too busy to stay and listen to her tales for even a few extra minutes. Now I wish I had; she'll not recount them again. "Hmmm, that looks like Mr. C. Oh yes, it is." Suddenly I recall his smile and that he always said "Thank you, honey" as I left his room. Did I deserve that consideration? I like to think so. Of course, the important thing is that he believes I did. Sometimes, individuals don't even make it into the temporary spotlight of the newspaper obituaries. My patient, Mr. P., had no family and no friends and was alone when he died. His absence from those black and white pages weighed just as heavily on my heart, if not more so. What would Mr. P's death notice have said? He had served in the U.S. military; he was a shrimper with many interesting stories, what about those details? Aren't they obituary-worthy? Sadly, I'll never see them recognized and neither will anyone else. How is it that a human being, who is someone's son and someone's brother, passes from this life without even a ripple on the pond of humanity?

Today is Sunday and the declarations of the deceased are quite numerous as they always are on Sundays. As I read to the end of the list, Vargas, Watts, Yanas, and Young, I hope for peace for the families and friends whose multi-faceted and three-dimensional loved ones are honored by a few paragraphs in a monochromatic medium in someone's hands as they drink their morning coffee.