By admin 
Years ago, I was sitting in Dave and Barbara Cribbs’ living room in Charlotte, helping them write Dave’s obituary. Conversation turned to the service that would honor Dave’s life when the time came. That’s when Barbara said something I didn’t fully appreciate at the time.
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“I’m having so much fun planning Dave’s funeral.”
Today, 12 years after cancer took Dave, I understand. Pancreatic cancer took my brother, Gary, on July 14. Together, he and I had so much “fun” planning his funeral.
My older brother was 80. He was a doctor in the small Upstate New York town of Monticello, N.Y. He loved his work, loved coming home to his wife, Gloria, and their two sons at day’s end. The cancer diagnosis forced his retirement and set him on a journey that lasted more than three years.
Almost immediately after the diagnosis, my brother sprang into action, inviting me to help. Our work together began with his obituary. He enjoyed revisiting his life, from how he heard the call to medicine (he and his best friend dissected a frog in seventh grade) to what he said when someone shared their own medical problem, almost always less serious than his: “Count your blessings.”
Then came funeral plans. Here’s where the real “fun” began.
He wanted the service to be brief. (His attention span was never very long). Though nonobservant, he wanted it to include a taste of Judaism in remembrance of our parents.
We met with a local rabbi. Gary had decided on cremation, a practice that now outnumbers burials. I knew that conservative Judaism has historically opposed cremation. Still I was stunned when the rabbi badgered Gary to choose burial. He wouldn’t let up. My brother was too intimidated to end the meeting. Not me. I told the guy this conversation is over, and something like “I can’t believe you are hectoring a dying man.”
When the morning of the funeral arrived, a more kindly rabbi, Chuck Diamond, recited the Mourner’s Kaddish in Hebrew (“May there be abundant peace from heaven, and life, for us and for all Israel; and say, Amen.”).
Gary looked forward to regular visits from Hospice. The team included a chaplain, a lovely man who was raised Roman Catholic and eventually found his way to Buddhism.
“He has been a partner on your journey,” I told my brother. “Let’s have him beside us when you reach the end.”
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My brother loved the idea, which is how Chapel Gary O’Connor offered a final blessing at the service (“May we all have patience in our grief and find the time to heal.”).
My brother asked me to give the eulogy. An attempt at humor – a welcome moment of lightness at a dark time – inspired laughter: “I did consider speaking under protest. This was the older brother, after all, who used to chase me around the house taking pictures while I was naked. Thank God that was before Instagram.”
A more serious reflection inspired smiles: “Gary often said he didn’t believe in a life after this one. I love what my wife, Sharon, a believer, told him: ‘Well, let’s hope you are pleasantly surprised.’”
I knew Gary wanted to have plans in place. But it never occurred to me that he would find so much solace in writing this last chapter of his story. And that I would find so much comfort in doing something practical with and for him. The young and healthy among us might cringe at the notion. But those who are in the same boat as my brother will understand.
You lose control of your life when cancer or some other life-ending illness strikes. Planning your funeral, writing your obituary, showing your spouse which bills to pay when, making sure food is ordered for the visitation (Gary asked about it) – all of it becomes your final, defiant act.
It declares, “This has been my life. Now this is my death.”
A version of this column first ran in a newsletter published by End in Mind. The Minnesota-based nonprofit (www.endinmindproject.org ) helps people navigate conversations about death and dying.
Former Charlotte Observer columnist and editor Ken Garfield is a freelance writer/editor in Charlotte. Reach him at [email protected] .
This story was originally published August 14, 2026 at 3:54 AM with the headline “Taking control by crafting our final chapter | Opinion.”
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