
Here Lies Rachael Jensen
Notes on Death
I’ve always been kind of fascinated by death. Not in a dark or creepy way, but I’ve definitely caught myself wondering about those big, unavoidable questions: How am I going to die? Is it going to hurt? What’s next? And who’s going to miss me when I’m gone?
I wouldn’t call myself obsessed with the macabre or anything, but there was a point where I thought about becoming a mortician or even a taxidermist. Looking back, I guess it was my way of trying to make death feel less scary—something I could handle, or at least understand better.
Now, at 32, I realize how lucky I’ve been to have experienced so little death firsthand. When I have, the grief I’ve felt has always been more for the people left behind than for the actual loss.
Because death hasn’t touched me too closely yet, I do wonder how I’ll handle it when it finally does. My parents, my husband, my dog—and eventually, me. How will I deal with the pain when it’s no longer just a concept, but a real, crushing reality?
Knowing death can show up whenever it wants, I started thinking: maybe there’s a way to get ready for it without being, like, morbid. What if I could embrace life while acknowledging that everything eventually comes to an end? That’s when it hit me: I could write my own obituary every year on my birthday, saying goodbye to the person I was last year. It’s a way to reflect on the past, appreciate how far I’ve come, and look forward to whatever life throws at me next.
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The Death of My 31st Year
Obituary 31 departed with a roar on the morning of September 14, 2024. But, if 31 could’ve chosen how to go, it would’ve been just like this: laughing and drinking too much with a group of girlfriends. Something her predecessors didn’t have the luxury of or took for granted. 31 had an incredible year. She
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The Death of My 21st Year
Obituary 21 passed gently in the summer of 2015, without spectacle or ceremony—just the soft turning of a page that would end up marking one of the most formative chapters of her life. Though she arrived quietly—no wild night out, no clinking of glasses to celebrate a first legal drink—21 had nothing to prove. She
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The Death of My 18th Year
Obituary 18 passed quietly, leaving behind a trail of tears, fears, and the seeds of resilience that would bloom in years to come. If 18 could’ve chosen how to go, it might’ve been on a sunlit walk through the hilly campus of Alderson-Broaddus College, headphones in, heart heavy yet hopeful, and mind spinning with the