For as long as I can remember, every morning my mother has sat down with her coffee, opened up the newspaper, and read the obituaries. It never dawned on me that this was anything but grim, much less a good habit. I concluded it had been prompted by her career as a physician. Finally, on a visit back home one day I asked her about it.

She said that when she was young she had read that Buddhists read obituaries on a daily basis. Their theory was that it served as a very poignant reminder that no one escapes death. Ever since she had faithfully read those death notices and concluded that it is in an effective way to maintain a good perspective on life and ones fleeting existence.

It is nice to know that my mom is not some morbid voyeur. In addition, she has successfully once again impressed me and made me stop to think. Just another reminder that the good life is something we must aspire to each and everyday, for it might be our very last.