He could go weeks without eating a vegetable or piece of fruit, and I don’t believe he ever ate more than two whole apples, bananas, or any other fruit in a single day for his entire life.

When she was four, she developed a habit of interrupting every member of her family—and most strangers—whenever she felt like it.

He could read the comments on YouTube for hours without ever finding motivation to give more than a thumbs up.

After graduating college and getting a job, he found it impossible to order from Subway without getting cookies.

Sometimes, when reading a book by himself, he would laugh out loud at an irrelevant idea that came to mind.

He never wore a hat in the sanctuary.

She often got irrationally angry the moment someone started talking—and sometimes just at the sight of certain people.

He could not leave a campground without uttering, “How can you tell the Boy Scouts have been here? You can’t!”

She hated being reminded of anything she ever said.

Nobody who had received a gift from her would have guessed it, but she was never taught how to wrap presents.

Not long after hearing a good idea, he routinely could be found sharing it, along with an original—and untrue—story behind how he thought of it, with others.

He started his habit of daily exercise the same week that he ended it—and was happier for it.

****

Do you see? The obituaries or eulogies need to be filled with love. When you say something that is A. Untrue and B. General (like, “He loved life” or “He was loved by all”) you merely show that you didn’t even know the deceased, that you didn’t ever notice them even.

Do better. We all deserve it.