One day a newspaper interviewer told me that my obit was already on file...what a shock. I decided that I'd better take a hand in what my epitaph would be. I sang it to close a program (it has a tune); folks didn't like the title, "Epitaph," so I changed it to, "Songs of Life." It's personal, but you can have it too, if you like:

Harp on the willow tree, now it is hung
One man, one faith, one God, to them I've clung;
Sweet were the songs of life- now they are sung,
Harp on the willow tree, now it is hung

Dear little son of mine- child on your knee,
Sing him your songs of life- let him fly free!
Dear little son of mine- child on your knee,
Sing them for you, for him- sing them for me. Jean