Jill's Journal: ‘Make sure it’s not the one with the fish ...’

As a weekly news editor, I have come to accept a few unavoidable truths: deadlines will always sneak up on you, spellcheck will betray you at the worst possible moment, and no matter how great a life was lived, the obituary photo, most times, has a lot to be desired.

Friends, we need to talk.

Specifically, we need to talk about the photo that will represent you for eternity in the public record. The one clipped and saved in family Bibles. The one that will pop up when someone Googles your name 20 years from now. The one your children will stare at and say, “Why did we choose that photo?”

I have seen my fair share of these less-than-desirable photos.

I have seen the 1978 glamour shot, complete with feathered hair sprayed into a structure sturdy enough to qualify for historical landmark status. I have seen the hunting photo featuring the dearly departed squinting into the sun while holding a pheasant like it’s an Academy Award. I have seen the fishing photo where the fish is crystal clear and the person who caught it is a blur in the background.

I have seen the cropped wedding photo where we can still see the edge of Aunt Linda’s veil and what might be half of Uncle Gary’s ear.

I have seen selfies taken at arm’s length from below – a camera angle that has never in the history of selfies improved anyone’s jawline.

And let us not forget the restaurant photo. You know the one. Someone’s 80th birthday at a steakhouse, balloons in the background, eyes closed at the exact moment the memory making picture was snapped.

Here is my suggestion: everyone should have a designated obituary photo. A good one. A non-cringe one. A photo that says, “I lived well and here’s a picture that says just that.”

We plan our wills. We plan our retirements. We pre-plan funerals down to the hymns and the ham sandwiches. But do we plan the photo that will represent us for all eternity?

Instead, grieving loved ones are left to scroll through camera rolls, “Not that one …  definitely not that one … why are there 43 pictures of Dad’s truck but none of him?”

So here’s what I propose: The Responsible Obituary Photo Program. Once every five years, take a decent, well-lit, forward-facing picture. No fish. No deer. No giant sunglasses. No Snapchat filters that give you dog ears. Just you. Looking like yourself. On your best (hair) day.

Think of it as a gift to your loved ones. In their moment of grief, they will not have to debate whether your “funny” Halloween costume as a clown truly captures your legacy.

To be clear, this installment of “Jill’s Journal” comes from a place of affection. Obituaries are sacred little stories. They are tributes and our families and friends deserve a photo that honors the life behind them, not one that makes future generations ask, “Was Grandma always orange?”

In all seriousness, obituaries are one of the last gifts we give the people we love. They’re small but mighty stories – a few paragraphs that try to capture decades of living, loving, working, laughing, raising kids, spoiling grandkids and arguing about thermostats.

The photo that sits beside those words matters. It’s the face people will pause on. The smile they’ll remember. The eyes that say, “That was them.”

So, give your family a good one.

Take a picture that looks like you on your best ordinary day. Not glamorous. Not filtered. Just you.

And then go right back to living a life to the fullest so that the photo is the least interesting thing about you.

Just make sure it’s not the one with the fish.