I wrote my own obituary

August 17, 2076
Chicago Tribune

Abigail M. Schilling, owner of the The Tribune Company, died Sunday of natural causes, at 92. Per her request, her own obituary follows. This was her "work in progress," she called it. The only thing an editor could never attack and the only thing that would only be finished when she was.

If there was one thing I learned in journalism it was that the story was never done. It could always be tightened a little more, another source could always be interviewed. Well I've shown them.

I died the way I wanted--with a long life, a lot of love, and enough memories to finally be satisfied.

I’m survived by the rest of world. All of you left living, enjoy it. Love those you’re close to, meet new people, have no regrets. I have my own regrets and I regret them.

I’m survived by my husband. I married him because he was the only guy I knew who would live longer than me. Some said that was cocky, I said it was good planning.

To my children--sorry I screwed you all up. I tried so hard, and yet, you’re just as crazy as I am.

To my editors--thanks for always letting me push the deadline, to my writers—thanks for never missing the deadline.

To my readers--thanks for boosting my ego enough to keep me writing. Thanks for buying my books even when my publisher didn’t. Thanks for all the letters, cards, and gifts. Those saved me from myself so many times.

To my Lord--thanks for letting me do what I wanted. Thanks for gifting me the way you did. And thanks for saving me from my own fallen state.

When I was in school I learned that the only way to leave a legacy was to become history. Well, I’ve become history. I guess the legacy is up to you.

I spent my life crying tears for the fallen world and leaving fingerprints of my own. Anger may have ruled my mind, but laughter ruled my heart.

Schilling died in her sleep. Although she struggled with depression and a rare blood disease her whole life, she continued to learn more, work harder, and not let her own life stop her. We’ll never forget hearing her yelling from her office. Or laughing.