My Obituary

As I stood this morning in the train and looked around at all my fellow passengers I saw something strange in a newspaper that an elderly man was reading. I saw my obituary printed in black and white.

It resembled a picture of me albeit an older version of me with lesser hair, most of which had turned white. It had my name in full and in the brackets it bore the psudonym "kennybaba" by which I am known.

But what struck me most was who grieved my loss (or a better way to put it would be who celebrated my life). My wife, my children and grandchildren, my cousins and my friends which felt nice for a while but then if you think about it what bothered me more is how will they remember me as.

As years have gone by I have seen a share of obituaries and been for funeral masses. I mourn for a while but then life goes on. And all I carry of that person are the memories. So if all the people that knew me were to collectively paint a picture of me, what would that picture look like?

And suddenly I return back from my thoughts to reality. It is time to alight the train, time for that newspaper to be scrap paper this evening and for that obituary to become a figment of my imagination. But its memory with me; just like mine with others, is a thought that could haunt or heal my world!