obituary; epitaph

If you’re the sort of person who likes to settle in front of the fire with a nice column of obits, there’re none we rate higher than those in the Times Colonist, in Canada. They’re not all brilliant, of course. But every so often you’ll encounter one which isn’t a catalogue of biographical facts that merely tell you what the person did, but, instead, a corker which tells you what the person was like. Here’s a good example:

OSEPHSON, Blanche Passed away suddenly on December 22nd at her home for the last ten years in Victoria, BC. Born May 19, 1920, the only daughter of poor Russian immigrants, Blanche was a first generation New Yorker. She married her devoted husband Herman of 45 years and started their lives together. They moved to Las Vegas in the 50’s and then to Los Angeles in the 60’s. Together their family grew and hard work brought success.

Through life’s twists and turns, she never forgot where she came from. Blanche always kept the family and the home first before anything else. She was generous to the people she loved, opinionated, passionate and outspoken about what was right and wrong. Mother, grandmother, and great grandmother she will be missed. She is survived by her son Maxwell, daughter-in-law Wendy, daughter Miriam (Michaels), grandsons Matthew (Celina) and David, granddaughter Emma, and great grandson Rhys.

Blanche will be laid to rest between her beloved Eugene and Herman on December 30th, 11:00 am Eden Memorial Park, Missions Hills, Ca.

As she quite often said “other than that, there is not much else doing.”

Later in the same column there’s this: 

CLARK, John Anthony 14 February 1941 – 25 December 2011 My life is over. After almost 26,000 days on Planet Earth I have moved on. The Grim Reaper called since I did not overcome cancer. Life began in Saltburn-by-the-Sea, Yorkshire, the only child of Nellie and Jack Clark, in a working class environment. After a happy childhood I surprised myself by obtaining a Degree in Sociology from the University of Leeds…

Read it all here. 

Here are some latest extracts from my favourite obituary pages, in the Times Colonist, Canada.

What I admire about the best of these is their lapidary nature, their restraint, their decorum. Above all, I admire the careful thought that has gone into epitomising the person who has died. In just a few words a person’s nature is made palpable. You feel you know them.

Charlie, who enjoyed skiing until he was 65 yrs of age, was quick to laugh and was quite a prankster in his youth. He was always first to fill his plate at family gatherings and constantly tell tall tales of the hardships of growing up on the farm.

He had a keen sense of justice & fair play. His analytical mind made him reasoned & articulate in conversation or debate & he always remained open-minded & congenial.

He was never one to seek recognition for himself or take credit. Dad was a gentle & thoughtful man, reserved in any judgment of others & honourable in all facets of his life.

Dad was a survivor; a man of few words with incredible wisdom, strength & courage. He took solace in maintaining his independence & sharp mind, exercising practicality & never seeking entitlement.

Lastly, this, which speaks so tellingly of the feelings of the bereaved:

PARKER, Eileen Elizabeth (Ward) March 31, 1930 – May 12, 2010 Kind, loving, caring – good and decent to the core of her being – Eileen was taken, inexplicably, unfathomably and unmercifully, by pancreatic cancer on Wednesday, May 12, 10 days from diagnosis to death, only weeks from apparent health to her last breath.

lap·i·dar·y—adjective: characterized by an exactitude and extreme refinement that suggests gem cutting: a lapidary style; lapidary verse. Of, pertaining to, or suggestive of inscriptions on stone monuments.

I wandered over to the Times Colonist in Canada this morning. It’s a while since I’ve been. The obituaries are some of the best. They often embody a really nicely written epitaph – a lapidary epitaph. The sort of epitaph you find in English churches before the Victorians pumped in hot air and sonority. Jane Austen’s is as fine a model as you could find:

In Memory of JANE AUSTEN, youngest daughter of the late Revd GEORGE AUSTEN, formerly Rector of Steventon in this County. She departed this Life on the 18th of July 1817, aged 41, after a long illness supported with the patience and the hopes of a Christian. The benevolence of her heart, the sweetness of her temper, and the extraordinary endowments of her mind obtained the regard of all who knew her and the warmest love of her intimate connections. Their grief is in proportion to their affection, they know their loss to be irreparable, but in their deepest affliction they are consoled by a firm though humble hope that her charity, devotion, faith and purity have rendered her soul acceptable in the sight of her REDEEMER.

At the Times Colonist we find this in commemoration of STEPHENSON, Colin Patrick October 6, 1964 – February 21, 2010:

Living courageously, often defiantly, with HIV/AIDS for many years, Colin was a man whose imposing stature was matched by a huge heart. Known for being stubborn, opinionated, and a consummate devil’s advocate, he will be remembered most for his sense of humor, his thoughtfulness and honesty, and above all his kindness, which he shared among a diverse network of friends, family and co-workers. All who met Colin were struck by his fierce independence, passion for fairness, and constant attention to friends and family. His was a life defined by caring for others. Predeceased by his father, Richard, he is survived by his mother, Ruth, his partner, Shawn, his sister, Jennifer, brothers Greg (Paivi) and Tim (Kathy), and aunts Joan (Jim), Prue (Jack), and Ruthie.

Numerous cousins, nephews, and nieces will miss his hugs and jokes. All will miss the warmth of his twinkling eyes, infectious laugh, and soft flannel shirts.

I’ve probably chosen the best of the crop. Read the rest here.

I was struck, as I read, by how many of these obits end by announcing there will be no funeral. It set me wondering… More matter for another blog post.