Glenn Birkett

With the anticipated reappearance of ghosts, goblins, mummies, and cardboard tombstones with “R.I.P.” painted on them, suddenly appearing in residential front yards, I have been thinking about some real epitaphs.

“Here lies an atheist. All dressed up and no place to go.”

“I told you I was sick.”

“Here lies Les Moore, four shots from a 44. No Les, no more.”

“Here lies the body of Thomas Vernon, the only surviving son of Admiral Vernon.”

“I am not grieved, my dearest wife. Sleep on. I’ve got another wife. Therefore, I cannot come to thee for I must go and live with she.”

“The children of Israel wanted bread and the Lord sent them manna. Old clerk Wallace wanted a wife, and the devil sent him Anna.

“Gone, but not forgiven.”

“Here lies Ezekiel Aikle, age 102. The good die young.”

Reading what some families have put on their “loved one’s” tombstones, I am thinking about buying my marker and having it inscribed and not bothering someone else with the task. No telling what someone else might have inscribed on it. But what would I want on it?

In a sense, what is inscribed on our markers will be our last word. What is the last thing you would like to say? When strangers pass by your marker a few hundred years from now, do you have something you would like for them to read?

What do you want on your tombstone?

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