I am not being flip or sarcastic when I tell you that I peruse the obituaries on a daily basis. It is possible that I inherited the trait from my parents or that there is some morbid curiosity of reading the descriptions of someone’s life in a limited space. How does one compile their life so compactly? And why are they always so nice? We are all human – making mistakes, stumbling around just trying to figuring out our place, so why are obituaries wrapped up like a neat present? In the spirit of honesty, I would like to share my own obituary, so that maybe, a trend can be started. Maybe we can call it – here is my imperfect life and I did the best that I could.
ALLISON SMITH JONES entered this world on June 10, 1967. Her passions centered around her family which included her husband, Brian, and stellar sons, Addison Bailey and Bryce Paul. One of Allison’s greatest gifts was her dislike of people and her love of animals. She rescued and adored countless four-legged fur babies that gave her great joy. Allison was sarcastic, flip, and sometimes had a hard time being compassionate especially when other people were doing stupid shit.
She was a writer who actually got paid and enjoyed the countless homes that she got to share with the loyal and sometimes cray cray readers of her column. Her dedication to the voiceless allowed her to open many doors for her son, Bailey, and made many educators cry as she wouldn’t settle for anything less than what was rightfully deserved.
She cussed a great deal and made no apologizes for it. Oh, and she loved Jesus…..A LOT! (The last sentence might be needed for an entrance into heaven.) She could be a real pain in the ass. While even with the best of intentions, she had the ability to steamroll people with a smile or maybe it was a smirk, on her face. She wasn’t perfect and never pretended to be. She died peacefully with her third finger extended as she loved having the last word.