I
was caught sitting in my cafe reading the page of necrologies or
obituaries (never quite sure what exactly is the difference between the 2
words), by an acquaintance, who asked bluntly why was I interested in
such morbid reading. Did I know the dead? No, I said to both: I didn't
know the dead, nor do I consider reading obituary morbid. In fact I
quite like it.
As much as we hate or shun the subject of dying, death is undeniably consubstantial to life. I prefer the kind of necrology that recount the lives of those who had done or achieved outstanding goals, be they of great service to the society of mankind, or contribution to advancement of science or other specific fields, or purely personal challenge. Like a condensed biography. Not like the floral 'literary' composed by family or friends as a final bouquet for the departed.
I have more problem with the other kind of obituaries, I confess, the kind dedicated to intellectuals and artists, that hide even the slightest imperfections (which exists in all of us but apparently not once we are dead, or if we had been celebrities and had lots of friends or fans), employing tons of ink and embellishing adjectives to praise their virtues, true or invented.
So to my dear friend who left this world last week, to all departed, and especially to all of us mortals, let's celebrate life for as long as we are able ...
Current Mood: 
Awake
Awake
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