Obituaries

With something approaching regularity, I read the local obituaries. I take no pleasure in it. This practice is akin to stepping outside to evaluate an approaching hailstorm—you know you’re going to be impacted, either now or sometime later.

Many years ago, while attending Montana State University, I pushed my way into a creative writing class taught by the internationally known novelist and poet Richard Brautigan. I was not technically qualified for the class, but I pestered the Dean of English so persistently that he and Brautigan eventually gave in and allowed me to attend.

Brautigan insisted on one rather strange exercise as part of the course: he wanted us to read the obituaries in the Billings Gazette. He admired the clear and concise style of the obituaries. And, of course, he was not wrong about that. Obituaries are succinct, deeply touching, and often beautiful in a way no other writing can be.

I see obituaries in a far different light today. I am too near them. I regularly find the summaries of my friends and acquaintances there. And, of course, that storm is ultimately set to envelop me.

—Mitchell Hegman