The 273rd death.

[By Lavanya]

If Lavanya were to write her own obituary, she’d probably just weave together a mismatched lattice of her favourite poems, euphemising her death in her own metaphorically poetic fashion.

Her camera roll was filled with pictures of the skies at their pinkest, and her notes were full of poems she wrote impulsively on nights she either felt too much or nothing at all. The last song she listened to before she died was called, ironically enough, Carry On, and the last thing she looked up on google was ‘origami for beginners’. She loved to paint her old art files with flowers from her grandfather’s garden, albeit ineptly, and had been trying to learn a Bryan Adams on her piano this past week. Lavanya was just a girl madly in love with art.

In her cupboard, there were less clothes and more photos of the things she loved – her family, friends, a favourite band, some low-quality van Gogh prints. She had so much love to give, she almost choked on it at times. So, if you must remember her, do so with love. And if you must keep this obituary with you as a souvenir, maybe fold it into an origami.

Our Self-Written Obituaries invites people to write their obituary in 200 words. The idea is to share with the world how you will like to be remembered after you are gone. (May you live a long life, of course!) Please mail me your self-obit, with a photo of you or your world, at mayankaustensoofi@gmail.com.