Epitaph
I have done my fair share of thinking about endings over the last eight months. Many things have either ended or have almost ended around me and it has got me thinking about the end of my life. My thinking led me to do a little searching on the internet on epitaphs. An epitaph is a short text that is often written on an individual's gravestone. I found some funny, sad, and profound one's that got me to thinking even more. I want to share a few:
Owen Moore. Gone away owin' more than he could pay.
William Wilson. Here lieth WW, never more will he trouble you, trouble you.
Here lies Lester Moore and four slugs from a 44. No less, no more.
Here lays Butch, we planted him raw. He was quick on the trigger but slow on the draw.
Here lies a man named Zeke, second fastest draw in Cripple Creek.
Here lies the body of Margarent Bent, she kicked up her heels and away she went.
In memory of Anna Hopewell. Here lies the body of our Anna, done to death by a banana. It wasn't the fruit that her low, but the skin of the thing that made her go.
Here lies Robert Trollpe, who yon stones roll up. When death took his soul up, his body filled this whole up.
Jedediah Goodwin. Auctioneer. Born 1828. Going! Going! Gone! 1876
Here lies Ann Mann, who lived an old maid, but died an old Mann.
I plant these shrubs upon your grave dear wife, that something on this spot may boast of life. Shrubs must wither and all earth must rot, shrubs may revive, but you thank heaven will not.
Anna Wallace. The children of Israel wanted bread and the Lord sent them manna. Old clerk Wallace wanted a wife and the devil sent him Anna.
John Starkweather. Here is where friend Starkweather lies, nobody laughs, nobody cries. Where he goes, how he fares, nobody knows, nobody cares.
Some of these are quite funny and some cut like a knife. They have all made me wonder, "What would those who know me write on my gravestone?" What will my epitaph be? Will I have a legacy that will live beyond my time on earth? Or will those around me be glad I am gone or not even care?
Owen Moore. Gone away owin' more than he could pay.
William Wilson. Here lieth WW, never more will he trouble you, trouble you.
Here lies Lester Moore and four slugs from a 44. No less, no more.
Here lays Butch, we planted him raw. He was quick on the trigger but slow on the draw.
Here lies a man named Zeke, second fastest draw in Cripple Creek.
Here lies the body of Margarent Bent, she kicked up her heels and away she went.
In memory of Anna Hopewell. Here lies the body of our Anna, done to death by a banana. It wasn't the fruit that her low, but the skin of the thing that made her go.
Here lies Robert Trollpe, who yon stones roll up. When death took his soul up, his body filled this whole up.
Jedediah Goodwin. Auctioneer. Born 1828. Going! Going! Gone! 1876
Here lies Ann Mann, who lived an old maid, but died an old Mann.
I plant these shrubs upon your grave dear wife, that something on this spot may boast of life. Shrubs must wither and all earth must rot, shrubs may revive, but you thank heaven will not.
Anna Wallace. The children of Israel wanted bread and the Lord sent them manna. Old clerk Wallace wanted a wife and the devil sent him Anna.
John Starkweather. Here is where friend Starkweather lies, nobody laughs, nobody cries. Where he goes, how he fares, nobody knows, nobody cares.
Some of these are quite funny and some cut like a knife. They have all made me wonder, "What would those who know me write on my gravestone?" What will my epitaph be? Will I have a legacy that will live beyond my time on earth? Or will those around me be glad I am gone or not even care?
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