My dad is 98 years old. He lives in an assisted living facility. His room is number eight.
He has never owed anyone. He never borrowed money. He has been remarkably self-sufficient in living his near one hundred years.
Not wanting to burden anyone with his obituary or seeing to his affairs after death, he has taken all the steps he can short of putting the date on the headstone that is already carved and waiting.
What he wanted most in life and failed to get was an education. He was forced to go to work after eight years in a one-room schoolhouse. One of his children got the education he longed for.
Trying to tidy up the last few bits of what remains of his life, he wrote and sent me his obituary so I wouldn’t have to do it. He just wanted his remaining, highly educated son to formalize it. It is below in original form and I don’t think my dressed up version is half as good.