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Historical Summer 2021 article. Dates, prices, services and contacts describe the source period; current availability has not been established.
What would you like to have written on your tombstone? Sure, there will be your birthdate, a dash, and when you died, but what else? Think of it as a granite easel, a chance to define yourself for posterity. Or at least for a generation or two.
After all, when you’re gone, you’re gone, and that opens the door to lots of misremembering. You can avoid the “Who was he?” or “What was she like?” debates with an inscription that captures your essence in the granite.
If nothing else, this your opportunity to speak to future archeologists. OK, before you read any further, please take a moment and consider the phrase you want as the epitaph on your tombstone.
I am waiting. Do you have it? One of my favorite columns (a favorite one that I didn’t write, anyway) is by David Brooks, in which he wrote about the ways that people are portrayed at their funeral.
He categorized the comments into either resume virtues or legacy virtues. Both are said with respect and care, but they are quite different. Resume virtues are those that get us ahead in the work world: hard worker, skilled, gets the job done; you list them on your resume. Legacy virtues speak to our relationships: good parent, great friend, wonderful spouse, takes in stray pets; they capture how we make people feel. Schools focus on our resume virtues, but the legacy virtues are cited at funerals. I’ve been to quite a few memorials and funerals lately, and he is spot-on. What about you?
When you considered your epitaph, did you envision a chiseled resume or legacy virtue? Did it note your job or reflect your relationships with others? What about your sense of humor or culinary skills? Did it mention a pet? Remember, this epitaph is your chance to define the way you want to be remembered. It’s kind of like photo-shop for granite. Christopher Wren, the architect of St. Paul’s Cathedral in London is buried in this majestic church, and the wording on his tomb says, “If you seek his monument, look around.” The ambition of Alexander the Great is captured in his epitaph: “A tomb now suffices him for whom the world was not enough.” Those inscriptions definitely refer to resume virtues. For some, the next chapter may hold more promise than today’s corporeal existence. Edgar Allen Poe’s tombstone says, “Here, at last, he is happy.” Impact and the power of memory are inscribed on Abraham Lincoln’s tomb: “Now he belongs to the ages.” An epitaph which is powerful in reflecting time and culture is on the tombstone of Leonard Matlovich, a Vietnam veteran, recipient of a Purple Heart and Bronze Star and the first serviceman to publicly proclaim that he was gay.
It says: “When I was in the military they gave me a medal for killing two men and a discharge for loving one.” It hurts to read that.
Some people who lived by generating smiles use their tombstones to continue to elicit them after their death. Comedian Spike Milligan gets the last laugh; his says: “I told you I was ill.” On Rodney Dangerfield’s tombstone is written, “There goes the neighborhood,” and Janet Girolamo uses her tombstone to chastise: “If you can read this, you’re standing on my boobs.” Gosh, I wish I had known her.
We are all ephemeral – alas, that becomes clearer to me each day – so I asked some friends what they would like as the epitaph on their tombstone. David Brooks would be pleased that the ultimate legacy virtue, love, is prominent in many of the responses. Angela couldn’t decide between “she loved deeply” or “she loved ice cream,” so my guess is she loved ice cream deeply. Tracy replied, “She had love and she knew how to use it,” while Eileen wants hers to say, “My life’s journey, filled with seasons of joy, tears, laughter and love of family, children and friends.” Their words absolutely describe these folks. Linda envisions “she loved her family, friends, and community and was loved in return.” Jim wisely noted our transitory nature when he said, “This, too, shall pass.” The importance of Brooks’ legacy virtues are reflected in how Mimi wants to be remembered in granite, “She tried to change the world & enjoy the world, all in one day,” and if you met Mimi, you would know that this is her. Travis wishes his tombstone to say, “He found his joy in helping others,” and that’s him, for sure. Gary’s epitaph has a request: “My time on Earth was short, but I hope my memories last forever.
When you think of me, I hope it brings a smile to your face.” Yep, that is a given. Kathleen’s also has request but it seems to stem from a different motive: “Don’t believe everything you hear!” her tombstone will implore, and knowing her, that is also a given. Marty’s tombstone will say, “If only I had exercised less” and Mindy’s will reflect on her wild and exhausting ride with a simple “Whew!” My favorite epitaph comes from Amy: “Make the dash count.” That says it all.
As for my tombstone, a simple “He tried his best” will suffice. OK, dear reader, what about you? What would you like on your tombstone? I’d much rather read a preview of your epitaph now than see it later, in granite. Send your semi-pithy final words to me at trhoerr@aol.com. Peace and may the force be with you. (Note: Brooks’ column appeared in the April 11, 2015 NYT).
Originally published in The Times of Skinker-DeBaliviere, Summer 2021.
Read this article in the original newspaper issue.
Original source: SD_Times2021_06.pdf, printed page(s) 8; PDF page(s) 5.
