To help my daughter navigate the dreaded passing of my own dear self, I draft an obituary while still in the pink of health. She’s relieved. Says she’d be quagmired without it, given my checkered life. She reads it. Then says it could use a little more humor.

The kettle’s on 
The cup’s been warmed 
Beware, the slippery floor 

Bio: Maryanne Hannan