The Tiny Museum of You: Rethinking How We’re Remembered

In my very first blog, I wrote about writing down 50 dreams - some of which I’d already accomplished. Things I once dreamed about that were later made real, and moments that I never imagined myself in, but were deemed dream-worthy after the fact.

In coming back to my list almost six months later - a few more have been checked off the list -  taking voice lessons, and doing stand up comedy! There’s more to say around both of those and the process of being more willing to step out, trust my own voice and take up space - but that’s not what drew me to the writing page today.

Lately I’ve been having deeper conversations with friends and loved ones, and I’m loving it. A few months ago, one of my long distance besties, Mel, sent me these amazing Anti-Capitalist love notes stickers by Radical Emprints. *Not a sponsored post, but super meaningful so you should check ‘em out. I’ve been particularly moved by “tell me who you are - not where you work” “solidarity is a renewable resource”, and “care is our currency”. 

This thoughtful gift has led me to more reminders that asking people “what do you do?” when first meeting them is boring, drab, and kind of soul-sucking. How people make money to live is most often the least interesting thing about them - and it seems more and more like folks are tiring of the idea of basing our worth around this. It’s encouraging.

However, I too sometimes get trapped in feeling proud of my accolades, accomplishments, and affiliations. Sometimes it makes me think about what people would talk about if I died. 

I’m sorry for the rapid tone shift, and I don’t mean to be morbid at all - but - thinking about this makes me ponder how I most want to be not only known - but remembered. 

For a few years, I worked for an independent media called ElephantJournal based out of Boulder, Colorado. While it has mixed reviews nowadays, I’m grateful for the things I learned, the community I helped to foster, and the beautiful mix of people I got to bond and share sparkly moments with - in writing and in life.

One of my fellow creative writing apprentices and then colleagues, Kenni, wrote an article titled: “Why I’m writing my own obituary.” in 2017 and it’s never left me. I was intrigued, impressed, and deeply moved by this piece - and found myself wishing others would do the same. I’ve been to a number of funerals and found myself wondering what the dearly departed might think of the representations of life placed around by their loved ones - a tiny museum of photos and words, meant to encapsulate a living, breathing, feeling existence. I’ve heard that funerals are meant for the living - but I’ve never been able to get the idea of writing my own obituary out of my head. It’s on my list of 50 things to do. 

I’ve gotten to do some cool things in my life. I’ve travelled to a number of places, and done lots of things that have made my family proud. I’ve held down government jobs and had the honour of giving the valedictory address at my university convocation. I’m sure my career would be listed in my obit - and my heavy involvement in the church as a young person. 

At this point though, If I don’t get the chance to write my own obituary, and someone else is doing it, what I’d want to say about my being remembered and joyfully memorialized is this:

Do NOT say anything like: “Jen never let her disability stop her.” It means you didn’t know me at all. You may have seen the surface of me, but you haven’t seen me cry to my chiropractor or spend hours untangling internalized ableism with my therapist.

Please do, definitely celebrate my affinity for communities. 

I’m a proud sister of Iota Beta Chi Sorority’s Alpha Chapter (Halifax) - Sister Sophia #121.

I love community singing in a way that is utterly inexplicable in words, and can only be felt in the midst of joyful harmony. Tell them I found my favourite mentor, many treasured members of chosen family, and even the love of my life through this magical liminal space.

If you must discuss my career, talk about how it was varied and I found something to love about every single role I ever did - but more importantly, the connections with people were what got me out of bed in the morning.

Talk about the fact that I loved being a twin, a cat mom, and a creative writer.

Tell them the freedom I found in my identity as part of the queer community.

Tell them about my loud laughter, and love for terrible puns. 

Hopefully, I’ll have made a difference - so you can tell them about that too, I guess, but don’t make it too serious. Oh, and remind people not to be ableist, homophobic, or any other kind of disrespectful little shits. I’m sure haunting people is hard work, but I’ll do it if I have to - so don’t make me. ;)

Kenni’s article talks about living a life filled with obituary-worthy experiences. In this way, I feel grateful. My life, although I'm increasingly rattled about how much more physically painful it’s getting with age - has been full of moments that make me feel proud - and they’re probably not the ones most would think of. The person I was in my twenties maybe wouldn’t recognize a nearly-40 year old me, but, that’s okay. I have compassion for the me I’ve been, and patience and gratitude for the me I’m continuing to evolve into.

Friends, what would you obituary's "headline", be?

If you decide to write your own, let me know. I’m curious what comes out of it for folks - and honestly, even if you ask someone “what do you love most” instead of “what do you do?” we’ll call it a win - because let’s be honest… we’re all kinda over that crap.

With love, and hopes for a long and sparkly life for us all,

~Jen