Our Grandad/Nanu wrote his own obituary. The grandchildren would like to share this with you:
I wrote my obituary in 2011 thinking I will be on the lap of my journey at 85.
It was 8years later, I am still around but many who could share my thoughts, my jokes are not here any more and as such I have to write it again.
I have requested not to have any picture hanging on the wall as all present will have a different picture of me; good, bad, crooked, kind, evil, selfish, Vicki Baba, etc; and why should I shatter their allusion.
Death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it."
Death is rarely spoken about in our homes.
I wonder why. Especially when each one of us
knows that death has to come, has to strike.
It’s inevitable.
What a fallacy, that we keep looking at the shortcoming of the living, around us and with us but after death, start on a journey to look for all that is angelic in him or about him
“Here lies one who spared neither man nor God
Waste not your tears on him, he was a sod
confusing one & all, preforming the role of Narad Muni
Thank the Lord he is dead, this son of a gun.”(KS)
I believe in these lines of Tennyson:
“Sunset and evening star,
And had one clear call for me
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea...
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness or farewell,
Our Grandad/Nanu wrote his own obituary. The grandchildren would like to share this with you:
I wrote my obituary in 2011 thinking I will be on the lap of my journey at 85.
It was 8years later, I am still around but many who could share my thoughts, my jokes are not here any more and as such I have to write it again.
I have requested not to have any picture hanging on the wall as all present will have a different picture of me; good, bad, crooked, kind, evil, selfish, Vicki Baba, etc; and why should I shatter their allusion.
Death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it."
Death is rarely spoken about in our homes.
I wonder why. Especially when each one of us
knows that death has to come, has to strike.
It’s inevitable.
What a fallacy, that we keep looking at the shortcoming of the living, around us and with us but after death, start on a journey to look for all that is angelic in him or about him
“Here lies one who spared neither man nor God
Waste not your tears on him, he was a sod
confusing one & all, preforming the role of Narad Muni
Thank the Lord he is dead, this son of a gun.”(KS)
I believe in these lines of Tennyson:
“Sunset and evening star,
And had one clear call for me
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea...
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness or farewell,
