Columnist Bob Bridge
I’m an upbeat sort of guy. I prefer that state of mind.
However, not every day is blessed with fun and laughter. Today’s subject is somewhat somber.
We all grieve differently. Some individuals keep their emotions inside, while others wear them on their sleeves.
Admittedly, funerals are not my forte. I avoid them whenever possible. I’ve learned to pay my respects in a variety of other ways.
Make no mistake, I am a realist. There is no denying mortality.
Recently, we’ve watched as this coronavirus has negatively impacted more than just our physical health. It has created division and dissension.
I have good friends on both ends of the spectrum. They harbor distinctly differing ideas and strategies on how we should attack this dreaded disease.
Alas, so many conspiracy theories.
It’s hard to imagine such bitterness. I fear some folks have become addicted to these feelings of angst and anger.
What do I think we should do?
By all accounts, I won’t be around in 10 years. I’m not a particularly healthy guy.
The future belongs to the young. Therefore, I look to them to make these pivotal decisions.
A few weeks ago an old friend reminded me I still have a few mandatory determinations to make. There’s one inevitable ending I cannot dodge - my own.
One must be prepared.
The pondering commenced.
What funeral home? Public viewing? What do I wear (Cubs jersey)? Memorial service? Preacher? Burial or cremation? If burial, what kind of casket? Where should my body eventually be laid to rest? Headstone?
My brain is tired.
Heck, a guy could spend most of his life deciding exactly what should happen when he expires.
Fortunately, the obituary has been written, meticulously composed. It shall read: Bob B. Bridge, he loved his dog ... and Denise Ann.
Contact Columnist Bob Bridge at 812-276-9646 or email@example.com.