I did a writing exercise last month that had me write my own obituary. I had completed this assignment in the past, but after stumbling on what is now the old draft of my obituary a few weeks ago, I decided I could do better.
Random fact about Ivy—I went on a life tangent about four years ago thinking that I wanted to become a professional obituary author and funeral planner for a hot second.
I was given the privilege of writing my mother-in-law's obituary when she passed away in 2022, and I’ll probably never be able to accurately describe the honor it was to pen a short version of a person’s well-lived life. It was a gift I could offer my family during a time that was so heavy that it was hard to know how I could serve them. Then I got to help coordinate her celebration of life, and that task had me reimagining the process of modern-day funerals altogether.
Long story short, that creative endeavor was set aside as I became consumed with the reality that a well-lived life is easy to celebrate but hard to live without.
Maybe one day I’ll pick that idea back up, but for now I will cease to digress…
The purpose of the exercise is to write the ending to your life in a way that inspires you to live it when you read it. It gets you thinking about questions that are important to answer, but rarely ever asked:
Are you being the type of person you always wanted to be?
Are you doing the things you always said you would do?
Are you speaking the things you always knew you should say?
But most importantly, are you making people feel loved in a way you always hoped you would?
It’s a humbling challenge to think about how the world might sum up your life at the end of it. I couldn’t help but realize that so many of the things that I worried about in the last month will not matter at all when I die, yet a few of the things that I chose to disregard might.
We don’t quite live in a world that keeps the main thing the main thing any longer. I can spend days, weeks, and even months consumed with nothing but my own emotions and experiences, and in fact—I have. It’s easier than ever to completely avoid the task of living a day to its fullest and never take the time to ask yourself if you are writing a story worth reading.
I’ve probably read through my freshly written obituary 10 times since I’ve written it, and each time I have been challenged to step up in an area I proclaimed I would do well.
I’ve changed my mind, apologized for complaining, found time where I couldn’t, and paused for conversations I probably wouldn’t have had. I booked a flight, read a book, created a reel, made a meal, ate with friends, watched a movie, and got up to work out not because I wanted to, but because the girl I claimed to be needed me to.
Nearly every time I’ve had to recalibrate there is an ordinary task that the extraordinary version of myself needs me to fulfill. Yet the most surprising thing throughout this process has been the simultaneous draw to be kind to myself in ways I hadn’t been. The more I recognize how I want to show up for people, the more I recognize how important it is to see my own needs along the way.
History is full of legacies well lived, stories worth reading, and people who are still making the world feel loved long after they’ve been gone, and we get the opportunity to add to that group of individuals each and every day.
What about you? Are you living the life you always intended to live? If you’re like me and would appreciate the challenge of answering some of these questions for yourself, Thrive is here for you. Follow the link below to schedule an appointment. We can work together!