Anyone who knows me would be quick to say no subject is too bizarre for me to discuss, usually quite animatedly.

So when the topic of dying, tombstones and eulogies was mentioned recently among friends, I was all in.

The discussion reminded me of an exam I actually enjoyed taking in a “Death and Dying” sociology class when I was working on obtaining my gerontology certification.

The professor asked us to imagine what we would like to see written on our tombstones.

We also were asked to write our own eulogies - to imagine what a minister or friend or family member might say about us during our funerals.

What an interesting way to make us think about our mortality.

Until taking that class, I admit I never felt comfortable thinking or talking about death.

It was something to be feared. I regarded death as an enemy.

I don’t think I feared death for myself, but I cringed at the thought of losing the people I loved. That terrified me.

Now, decades later, after experiencing the deaths of parents, grandparents, some cousins, all aunts and uncles, a nephew, close friends and two beloved husbands, I accept the reality of death as a normal process - albeit one that inflicts great and lasting pain.

In other words, I am not afraid or superstitious when it comes to imagining my own death, planning my funeral or writing my obituary.

Some friends and family members think preplanning is morbid. I think it is smart and thoughtful.

With such a view, I readily joined the conversation about eulogies and tombstone inscriptions, and soon we were laughing as we imagined what some folks might say or write about us when we are gone.

Not surprisingly, several people thought an appropriate tombstone inscription for me should read, “Her feet finally stopped dancing.”

Since childhood I have been teased about my boundless energy and constant motion. I even dance with the mop when I am cleaning!

If my parents were alive, probably they would add, “She finally stopped asking questions.”

I always had, and still have, childlike, insatiable curiosity, which drove them crazy.

My mom often said I could not have chosen a better profession. Being a journalist, I get to ask people lots of nosy questions, and I get paid to do it!

My brother would want his eulogy or stone inscription to say, “He died young, at a very old age.”

As he explains, age is just a number. The rest is attitude.

How true. He will be forever young, riding his motorcycle, with his white beard blowing in the wind.

My friend Dale would want her eulogy to acknowledge that she “always saw goodness in everyone.”

She does, and she manifests that trait through community service, which has been a major part of her life as long as I have known her.

Dick, an engineer friend, thinks two words inscribed on a stone could summarize his life: “Always curious.”

He is my patient, go-to person when I have a problem that seems to defy solutions.

If Dick can’t fix it, it must not be broken. Or it needs to be replaced.

Another friend, a teacher, wants her eulogy or stone to include the words, “She never stopped learning.”

Her goal is to learn something new every day. She does.

When we’re gone, what do we want people to remember most about us? What lasting impressions are we making on those around us?

In addition to my perpetual motion and unquenched thirst for knowledge, I hope to be remembered for my writing - bringing words to life.

And I am sure almost everyone will remember me whenever they see a squirrel!

Although survivors’ memories of us may differ widely, all of us, in our special way, will leave much to remember.

So let survivors say or inscribe whatever will help ease their sense of loss.

The significance of the message must be to those translating their final feelings into heartfelt eulogies or marble words.