Planning My Obituary

Cory Fawcett recently wrote a thoughtful, grounded post about his father-in-law's death and the many logistical hurdles he and his family overcame. It's a lot of work to bury someone with a tribute befitting a full life, especially when also attempting to honor requests from those closest to the deceased.

One of the details Cory described struck a chord with me - the need to drop everything and spend three hours to write an obituary in order to submit it by the local newspaper deadline. This got me thinking: what elements of my life do I feel strongly enough about that I would want them to be played in the highlights reel that is the obituary?

Some elements would inevitably include the family forces that shaped my journey before birth and during my upbringing, the invisible hand determining the narrative I inherited:

• One grandfather who narrowly escaped the Holocaust and saw his family wiped out, learning 3 new languages to start life anew in 3 more countries by age 50.
• Heritage from both Mexico and Cuba, with the loud love, intense belonging and delicious cuisine one might imagine. Everyone was a cousin or uncle growing up. Children's birthday parties were easily 50 person affairs.
• Cuban family losing everything after fleeing Cuban revolution, with a family lesson embedded into successive generations that the only possession that can never be stripped from you is your education.
• Optimist mom who saw (and continues to only see) the good in every person she meets and every adversity she encounters. Inheriting her bias to happiness.
• Lighthearted dad who never stopped being a child at heart, paired with a stubborn streak and desire to control his environment. Yup, it's like looking in a mirror.
• A brother I shared a room and childhood with who ended up on the same planet but in a different world as he embraced religious orthodoxy.
• One sister who was cut from the same cloth but with better taste in music and the lion's share of street smarts.
• Another sister 12 years my junior. I played camp counselor for her during her childhood; as an adult she has played camp counselor for my kids.

Major elements would include my immediate family:

• A wife I didn't deserve, but was grateful to fool. Time spent with her made me feel like a more authentic version of myself.
• A daughter whose creative talents and love of the arts kept us singing and dancing as a family; who gave her tired dad a massage whenever he returned from a long shift; who often sounded more like the adult in the room than I did when I lost my temper.
• A son whose verbal skills, sharp wit, and shared love for absurd humor and strategy games was like watching a far better version of me come into existence.

Interestingly, the academic pursuits I felt deeply invested in pursuing when younger would only warrant a brief mention. I worked hard for my educational pedigree, but my wife and I keep our various diplomas on a wall in an out of the way closet that houses a filing cabinet and printer. The value of that education lay in a few precious mentorships; the discovery that my secret power was not so much my brain as my work ethic; friendships with extraordinary people I met thanks to the higher concentration of exceptional minds that tend to gather at such places; and the realization that many of those exceptional people pursue shiny brass rings that I would decide not to pursue.

• Stanford, UCSF, UCLA, Harvard

My career in medicine would warrant a paragraph.

• Practiced emergency medicine to experience the rich pageantry of humanity.
• Gave dignity to society's vulnerable, excluded, self-destructive and untouchable castes.
• Grew comfortable with uncertainty.
• Shepherded lives into and out of the world.
• Alleviated suffering when I could not mitigate disease.

Finally, I'd like to define myself by how I spent my time outside of my life as a physician. This is where it gets a bit trickier - there's how I'd like to see myself, how the world actually sees me, and all the ways I did not measure up as I'd hoped.

If I were to create a wish list of traits to measure up against by the time I die, it would be along these lines:

• Never stopped believing in the power of words and their ability to create empathy through shared human experience.
  • Read fiction voraciously. Read nonfiction to stretch myself.
  • Wrote. Less to contribute than to develop proficiency in a skill I admire in others. Work ethic overcame innate ability.
• Never stopped creating.
  • A family that shared my values, challenged my assumptions and pushed me to be a better version of myself.
  • A relationship where my wife and I grew together rather than apart.
  • Friendships with extraordinary people who were comfortable in their outsider skins, and in turn helped me feel more comfortable in mine.
  • Miniature, time-intensive works of art because small victories matter.
  • Not because I was adept, but because I wanted to become adept.
• Never stopped learning.
  • How to manage my investments to arrange for my family's financial security.
  • How to listen, especially to voices different than my own.
  • About a diversity of topics, from art to real estate to small town realities.
• Never stopped transforming.
  • The seeds I was given to grow into what they were intended to become, irrespective of whether it was what I'd envisioned for them.
  • The friends I was fortunate to meet into the community we all needed.
  • The life I had into the life I wanted.

What would you want mentioned in your obituary?