The 95th death.
[By Jonah Ayodele Obajeun]
Jonah Ayodele Obajeun was an amateur lover of madmen, who would be remembered as a journeyman crusader of writing parity, who wasn’t mourned for the good he did, but was missed for the good he didn’t receive. His death was celebrated with teary spoken word poetry and expressive fictional rendition to ghostly audience.
His mum died after a public announcement of her impending obituary. Mr Obajeun wanted to play a game, how to die once and still live, as a mark of respect for the dead, for his mum who died as a non-writing writer, a novelist of classical thoughts, yet no written books, but with tons of unwritten thoughts.
The silence of the other world, the oozing breeze, the ominous illusion, the reverberating deathly echoes of humming voices unseen, pained for untimely demise, the music of apparition and the dance steps of ghosts, all made being dead an adventure. He died an adventurer into the wonderland of vacuum. He never returned.
He was a poet in passing, an eccentric thought lover that couldn’t be read in hurry, and a learner of everything. He is survived by his unattained professorial title, his human assets that had transcended generations – the people he touched have touched others and others have touched others, from lineage to lineage, from generation to generation.
He left a legacy of teary eyes, shedding waterworks at the slightest blow of emotions. His future ambition is to keep his blog active as a ghost blogger, live through the timelines of his facebook and twitter accounts and be a ghost follower of his fans.
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 at email@example.com.