My Obituary

 Originally Written Between 2016-2017                                     

 

Mary Vogel McGraw

 

I was born in St. Paul, grew up in Forest Lake, lived in St. Paul, Spring Lake Park, and Coon Rapids, and died on (day, date, year).  I had my parents, Bert and Elsie Vogel, to thank for the most wonderful childhood a girl could want.  You see, they owned a roller rink in Forest Lake.  Skateland was my home-away-from-home.  In fact, I had the unique distinction of having most of my dates chaperoned by not one, but both of my parents.  And, I was never ashamed of that.  My parents were loved by all the youth in Forest Lake.

 

Ironically though, I ended up marrying a non-skater.  I met my husband, Norm, a couple of years after I graduated high school and moved to St. Paul to work as a secretary at 3M.  We both belonged to a young single adult group called the ACC (Associated Confraternity Clubs) and met on a ski trip.  Norm was the guy sitting in the back of the bus playing poker.  I was the gal in the red sweater who didn’t know her “diggers” from her “clovers.”  It took Norm nine years before he’d allow me to play 500 in public.  I never played 500 again.

 

We moved to Spring Lake Park when our first son, Michael was turning five, our second son, David, was turning two, and our third son, John, was “on the way.”  We stayed in our wonderful neighborhood on Jackson Street for 34 years.  I was a stay-at-home mom for about ten years and as such, became involved in church and school activities.  I learned how to decorate cakes and became a den mother for all three sons.  Our Rebecca was born about four years after John and, I have to admit, I did spoil her.   

 

Then Norm and I became involved in National Marriage Encounter.  We were team members and hosted 17 Marriage or Engaged Encounter weekends.  This was when I first realized that I liked writing since we had to speak about personal experiences in our presentations to the attendees.

 

I was a “traditional” person in that on the first day it snowed – I made homemade vegetable beef soup.  And, while cutting up the onions, carrots, potatoes, etc., I’d pop in a CD of Handel’s Messiah and sing along.  Also, for the past 25+ years, my friend, Dolores Otte, and I would attend Messiah Sing-Along Performances singing loudly from the alto section.  When “sing-alongs” dwindled in popularity, we joined the St. John’s Lutheran Church choir every fall to perform the Messiah with a professional orchestra and soloists.  The Christmas season officially started for me after our last performance every year.

  

And that, folks, is where I stopped writing this obituary.  I just couldn’t write any more. Re-reading what I had written so far only brought me deeper and deeper into a depression.  One wouldn’t think that writing about the fun and happy accomplishments in one’s life would be depressing.  But – for me – it is.  While writing, I was reminded that my mom and dad who gave me such a beautiful childhood, were gone.  Writing about Skateland brought back such wonderful memories of skating with my best friend, Judy.  Of skating with the Rollerettes – performing in skating shows.  Of skating a kick waltz or a march or fox trot with my skating partner, Joe Sahlin.  Both Judy and Joe died.  I miss them.

 

But, instead of reminiscing and feeling good about my past – I felt bad and depressed that I couldn’t re-live the past.  I kept dwelling on this in my mind as I wrote.  The past – not the future.  Maybe because I’m at the age where I have more past and less future on this earth.  Maybe because I realized that I had already written around 500 words and barely touched my teen-aged years and early-married life.  If I ever finished this obituary, my kids would probably have to take out a loan in order to pay for the four columns in the newspaper!  Even if I had made this a “eulogy” instead of an obituary, whoever read it at my funeral would have “gotten the hook” after an hour of speaking!

 

I’ve written eulogies for my mom and dad, my sister-in-law Melanie, and three friends, Judy, Bob, and Patt.  I found that writing a eulogy was actually the first step for me of going through the grieving process.  I was able to remember, laugh, cry, all at the same time.  My writing took me through anger, all the way to acceptance.  But, writing about me?  I discovered that I couldn’t get past “anger.”  Anger that I was not that little girl, or young married wife and mother, or enlightened working woman, or college graduate at the age of 50, or a person with long-lasting friendships.  My friends are dying around me.  I can’t “shoot the duck” on skates anymore.  In fact, I can’t even go up or down the steps without grabbing onto the banister.  I’m getting old – and I don’t like it.  Of course, the alternative is one I don’t like either. 

 

And so, I’m not going to finish this obituary –or eulogy – or whatever this is called.  It is just too hard for me at this time.  Maybe I’ll finish it sometime.  Maybe not.  The stories I’ve written since joining this wonderful Creative Writers Group in 2011 have been compiled in books for my children and grandchildren.  I will keep adding to them as long as I can.  In reading them, my kids will learn a little bit about the “inner me” – not only my experiences; but, how I felt, what I believed, how I reacted to good or bad experiences, and how I loved.  That is my obituary.

 

                        

 

REQUESTS
1.  I do not want my age mentioned.

2.  I want a space between the paragraphs (in the paper).  I want it readable.

3.  I’d like a picture with the obituary.

4.  I’d like to have this obituary placed in Mpls. and St. Paul papers.

5.  I’d like a short obituary placed in the Forest Lake Times.