5 not-so-grave obituaries that will make you consider who writes yours
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Writing an obituary, a lasting legacy summing up an entire lifetime of experience, can be a real challenge. Following are a few examples of creative obituaries written by authors who accepted that challenge head-on. These are sure to live forever in the minds of the people who read them.
William ‘Freddie’ McCullough
Killed when he rushed into a burning orphanage to save a group of adorable children.
Freddie’s family decided to say it like it is (or was). He sounds like an unforgettable guy — dead or alive.
BLOOMINGDALE – The man. The myth. The legend. Men wanted to be him, and women wanted to be with him.
William Freddie McCullough died on September 11, 2013. Freddie loved deep-fried Southern food smothered in cane syrup, fishing at Santee Cooper Lake, Little Debbie Cakes, “Two and a Half Men,” beautiful women, Reese’s Cups and Jim Beam. Not necessarily in that order.
He hated vegetables and hypocrites. Not necessarily in that order. …
Freddie loved to tell stories. And you could be sure 50 percent of every story was true. You just never knew which 50 percent. …
Freddie adored the ladies. And they adored him. There isn’t enough space here to list all of the women from Freddie’s past. There isn’t enough space in the Bloomingdale phone book. A few of the more colorful ones were Momma Margie, Crazy Pam, Big Tittie Wanda, Spacy Stacy and Sweet Melissa (he explained that nickname had nothing to do with her attitude). He attracted more women than a shoe sale at Macy’s. …
Freddie was killed when he rushed into a burning orphanage to save a group of adorable children. Or maybe not. We all know how he liked to tell stories.
His regrets were few but include eating a rotisserie hot dog from a convenience store.
James decided to write his own obituary to save his family from having to admit the obvious embarrassment of living in his “shadow” their whole lives. They probably appreciate his final gesture.
James “Jim” Groth made his last wildly inappropriate and probably sarcastic comment on July 28.
Jim was born and immediately dubbed “our favorite child” to John and Joan Groth in March of 1963. Their constant love, support, caring far exceeded anything Jim deserved.
He is survived by his wife of 25 years, the recently wealthy and overly devoted Julie, and his proudest accomplishments sons Brandon John, Blake Isa and Brett James.
Additionally, he is survived by his much older sister, Lisa Dickman of whythehelldoyoulivethere, Rhode Island, and younger brother John Groth of West Palm Beach, Florida.
Jim’s demise will now allow them to emerge from his shadow. A variety of nieces and nephews with mediocre upbringing would complete the list of those left to embellish his memory. …
Jim died knowing that “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” was the best movie ever, Bruce Springsteen best recording artist, Clint Eastwood the baddest man on the planet, and that chicks dig El Caminos.
His regrets were few but include eating a rotisserie hot dog from a convenience store in the summer of 2002, not training his faithful dog Rita to detect cancer, and that no video evidence exists of his prowess on the soccer field or in the bedroom ….
Cremation will take place at the family’s convenience, and his ashes will be kept around as long as they match the décor.
Anyone wearing black will not be admitted to the memorial.
I apologize for making sweet Bonnie wear no frills jeans when she was little.
Deathbed apologies are always appreciated, right? Apparently, Emily wanted to clear her conscious of EVERYTHING as she was meeting her Maker.
It pains me to admit it, but apparently, I have passed away. Everyone told me it would happen one day, but that’s simply not something I wanted to hear, much less experience. Once again I didn’t get things my way …!
I apologize for making sweet Bonnie wear no frills jeans when she was little and for “red-shirting” Scott in kindergarten. Apparently each of these things was humiliating to them but both were able to rise above their shame and become very successful adults.
I’d also like to apologize to Mary Ann for tearing up her paper dolls and to Betsy for dating a guy she had a crush on.
Just when I thought I was too old to fall in love again, I became a grandmother, and my five grand-angels stole not only my heart, but also spent most of my money. …
So … I was born; I blinked; and it was over.
No buildings named after me; no monuments erected in my honor. But I DID have the chance to know and love each and every friend as well as all my family members. How much more blessed can a person be …?
I’ll leave you with this … please don’t cry because I’m gone; instead be happy that I was here. (Or maybe you can cry a little bit. After all, I have passed away).
Today I am happy and I am dancing. Probably naked.
Mary ‘Pat’ Stocks
If anyone would like a copy of her homemade gravy, we would suggest you don’t.
Hopefully, the “school of hard knocks” that educated these kids will prepare them for the colorful tongue lashing their mamma’s going to give them for this honest obituary written in her honor when she meets them on the other side.
Pat Stocks, 94, passed away peacefully at her home in bed July 1, 2015. It is believed it was caused from carrying her oxygen tank up the long flight of stairs to her bedroom that made her heart give out.
She left behind a hell of a lot of stuff to her daughter and sons who have no idea what to do with it.
So if you’re looking for two extremely large TVs from the 90s, a large ceramic stork (we think) umbrella/cane stand, a toaster oven (slightly used) or even a 2001 Oldsmobile with a spoiler (she loved putting the pedal to the metal), with only 71,000 kilometers and 1,000 tools that we aren’t sure what they’re used for, you should wait the appropriate amount of time and get in touch. Tomorrow would be fine. …
She leaves behind a very dysfunctional family that she was very proud of.
Pat was world-renowned for her lack of patience, not holding back her opinion and a knack for telling it like it is. She always told you the truth even if it wasn’t what you wanted to hear. It was the school of hard knocks and yes we were told many times how she had to walk for miles in a blizzard to get to school, so suck it up. …
Her extensive vocabulary was more than highly proficient at knowing more curse words than most people learned in a lifetime. She liked four letter words as much as she loved her rock garden and trust us she LOVED to weed that garden with us as her helpers, when child labor was legal, or so we were told. These words of encouragement, wisdom, and sometimes comfort, kept us in line, taught us the “school of hard knocks” and gave us something to pass down to our children….
She was a master cook in the kitchen. She believed in overcooking everything until it chewed like rubber so you would never get sick because all germs would be nuked. Freezing germs also worked, so by Friday our school sandwiches were hard and chewy, but totally germ free. All four of us learned to use a napkin. You would pretend to cough, spit the food into it, and thus was born the Stocks diet. If anyone would like a copy of her homemade gravy, we would suggest you don’t.
A bad day …
And finally, a local obituary that speaks for itself.
Marilynn Kammerath Gabettas, 81, of Idaho Falls, died of natural causes on June 6, 2016, at her home as a Roto-Rooter sewer truck pumped out the family septic system. It was a bad day on South Bellin Road.