That’s right, April 6, is Plan Your Epitaph Day. To be honest I’m less scared about death than I am about the cost of a tombstone. It’s probably more economical to just pin a nice post to the top of my Twitter profile.
By the way, between you and me, one of my biggest social media fears is that I’ll be posthumously Twitter verified. I’ll die and then get that damn blue checkmark. In my Glass Half Full view of the world it completely figures that my social relevance would only be acknowledged after my demise.
In a macabre throwback Thursday, your tombstone epitaph is one of the few things still actually written in stone. So permanent: no eraser, no scratch outs, no backspace deletes. So what do you say? In honor of the day I’m considering:
It’s been nice.
I’m outta here.
Taking the venue into account, perhaps my epitaph should be funny and creepy. Something like:
Ok you guys, quit playing. It’s really dark in here. Let me out.
See You Soon.
Should my epitaph give a nod to my life-long love of sci-fi and say:
So Long And Thanks For All The Fish.
Maybe it should be cautionary:
Big Macs, Whoppers and french fries
This is why I up and died.
This is really morbid. We all know we’re going to die but we don’t want to think about it. I keep vaguely hoping a cute vampire will bite me while I still have some sex appeal and agility left. (Damn you, Stephanie Meyer, for unrealistically raising my expectations. Maybe the sparkly vampires are keeping their distance because they know in my heart I was Team Jacob.)
Even if it was an option, I don’t think I’d want to live forever. Sure, it would give me more time to plan for retirement but knowing me I’d still put it off. I’m sure the responsible immortals would be just as judgmental as the mortals: “Look at her, over 800 years old and still throwing her money away on clothes and shoes.”
Given the finality of death, there’s a lot of pressure for one’s last words to be deep and meaningful; crafting something that sounds Game of Thrones-ie; like:
Here lies Leighann Lord
First of Her Name
Last of Her Line
Lover of Books
Safety Pinner of Socks
Maker of Laughs
In the end, pun intended, I think a fitting epitaph would be:
The good news is I have a signal.
The bad news is I forgot my charger.