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.