Writing your own obituary may seem like a rather morbid thing to do — but for Sonia Todd, it was the only thing to do.
As we all know, most obituaries tend to paint a perfect picture of our lost loved ones’ shining moments, and lay them to rest with a closing statement that makes them seem worthy of sainthood. But Sonia didn’t want that. That just wasn’t her.
At the age of 38, she knew cancer would soon take her life, so she decided to pen an honest memory of herself to save her friends and family the trouble of listing “every minor accomplishment from cradle to grave.”
Since Sonia’s obituary was posted by the Love What Matters Facebook page, her powerful words have been shared over 5,000 times.
If you read them closely, you might just see yourself in them too:
“My name is Sonia Todd, and I died of cancer at the age of 38. I decided to write my own obituary because they are usually written in a couple of different ways that I just don’t care for. Either, family or friends gather together, and list every minor accomplishment from cradle to grave in a timeline format, or they try and create one poetic last stanza about someone’s life that is so glowing one would think the deceased had been the living embodiment of a deity.
The truth, or my version of it, is this: I just tried to do the best I could. Sometimes I succeeded, most of the time I failed, but I tried. For all of my crazy comments, jokes and complaints, I really did love people. I didn’t always do the right thing or say the right thing and when you come to the end of your life those are the things you really regret, the small simple things that hurt other people.
Some folks told me that writing my own obituary was morbid, but I think it is great because I get a chance to say thank you to all the people who helped me along the way. Those who loved me, assisted me, cared for me, laughed with me and taught me things so that I could have a wonderful, happy life. I was blessed beyond measure by knowing all of you. That is what made my life worthwhile.
If you think of me, and would like to do something in honor of my memory do this: