Gone and probably forgotten
I am a man of a certain age. In fact, I turn 59 on this very day. I am under no illusions. I realise that I now have more life behind me than I do ahead of me.
Having lost family and friends in recent years, I am acutely aware of my own mortality; that the clock is ticking; that my time here on this mortal plane is now limited.
I’d like to think that I have made a positive impact upon my family and friends; that I will be remembered by them with fondness, with warmth and with love.
But what about those beyond my “inner circle”. How will I be remembered?
Frankly, I have very little control over this. I realise that my role as a journalist has placed me at odds with many people over the years; that for all the friends I have made along the way, I have probably gathered a few enemies; that while some will mourn my eventual passing, others will barely notice that I have gone. A few might even welcome my departure.
I was minded of this recently in — of all places — LinkedIn. Obituaries and announcements of funerals seem to populate my feed on a regular basis these days; leaving me to wonder how many people notice and how many genuinely care about the death of someone they knew — in many cases — as nothing more than an online persona; a job title; an avatar.
