I’m a teacher. I was born a teacher, and I’ll always be a teacher. Besides my family, another thing that brings me joy is hearing from my students.
Yesterday, I got a phone call from a student I taught 44 years ago (give or take). Her name is Nhi Ngo. She was my first Vietnamese student. She was a delight then, and she’s a delight now. She’s an attorney in Los Angeles, but we have kept track of each other all these years.
She showed up in 2008 when I took the stage at the Hollywood Improv with my first attempt at Standup comedy. I was awful, but she was supportive.
She showed up again in 2016 when I was a finalist in the Clean Comedy Contest at the Icehouse in Pasadena.
Nhi brought some friends and relatives to take the walking tour I guide in Historic Downtown Murrieta. Another time, she brought her husband, Joe, to meet us, and we went out to dinner. She shows up in my life and we always have fun.
Yesterday, she happened to be in town and wondered if I was free. I was thrilled to have her come for lunch, and we talked for three and a half hours without a break. She’s a terrific conversationalist. It’s like a quick-paced tennis match, going back and forth with random topics all over the board. It’s invigorating to be with her. The thirty-year gap between us means nothing.
Unexpectedly, she stopped me in my tracks with this question: “When you die, how will I know?” What a question, and so timely.
Two weeks ago, I was visiting a neighbor of 34 years. She and her husband are in their 90s, so I try to check in on them regularly. After ten or fifteen minutes of small talk, I asked how her husband was doing. He’d been in the hospital and was failing. She looked at me in shock, “He died a week ago.” WHAT? Why didn’t anyone call me? How did I not know? I felt horrible.
So, here’s my question: When you die, how will those who aren’t your close family know that you have passed? Is there a mailing list, a Christmas list, a contact list in your computer or cell phone? How will anyone know? Who should you tell? Who should I tell?
I don’t know how many people care to know, but Nhi does. I can’t quit thinking about her question. She thinks I might live to be 102, and for some reason, she thinks she might not live a long life. I texted her today and asked her this question, “If you die before I do, how will I know.” She immediately answered that she would tell her husband to contact me.
I have 1.6k Facebook Friends, 5665 people in my contacts (many, I probably don’t even know anymore), 96 Substack subscribers, and 76 on my culled-down Christmas card list. My husband probably doesn’t know how to get to any of them.
I’ve heard some elderly people say they have outlived all their friends. I don’t think that will happen to me. I have dear friends who are fifty years younger than I am. And many in between.
I’ve already written my eulogy, recorded it, planned the music, and collected photos, but who will know when I die? An interesting question to answer. And who will care? I’ve been focused on spending eternity with Jesus in Heaven. I guess I’d better leave instructions for whoever is left behind. How about you?
I love to read obituaries, but I don't always trust their accuracy. Bravo for writing your own. I think when left to whoever volunteers to author your abbreviated biography in a few paragraphs, what's considered important may be a bit subjective. And where's the best place to announce one's passing? The newspapers aren't read by many. I still do. Facebook? Maybe, if there's a grandchild savvy enough to hack into your account. Or the grandchild can hack into your contact list in your phone and notify that way? Food for thought. Thanks, Karen.
I read the obituaries first, then the comics, then the news. Jeff