The Part that was Excited to Vote This Year
(2019 – 2020)
The Part of Me that was Excited to Vote This Year was violently murdered at the age of one by the Democratic primaries. It was the child of two other lively parts of me: The Part that was Pumped to Vote for Obama in 2008 and The Part that is Desperate for Hope in This Dystopian Hellscape. More than anything, it enjoyed imagining Jan 20, 2021 and seeing a progressive, female presidential candidate get sworn into office. It is survived by A Crushing Sense of Doom About November and the Part that is Going to Vote Anyway Despite Having Zero Enthusiasm About it. In lieu of flowers, please vote.
The Part that Enjoyed Watching Television
(1989 – 2020)
The Part of Me that Enjoyed Watching Television suffered a slow, prolonged demise over the course of three decades. In its youth, it relished nothing more than watching Power Rangers, Arthur, and the 1998 NBA Finals. First diagnosed with a debilitating disease after the attacks of 9/11, it finally succumbed to death after seeing videos of police brutality repeatedly broadcast by cable news. It is survived by seething rage, a strong desire for criminal justice reform, and The Part that Wants to Continue to Stay Informed but Also Wouldn’t Mind Just Napping for the Next Ten Years. Funeral services will be held periodically by me rocking back and forth in a corner.
The Part that Thought I Would One Day Be Able to Dunk a Basketball
(2005 – 2020)
Born after a crazy growth spurt in high school and inspired by the greatness of Michael Jordan in the aforementioned 1998 NBA Finals, this part of me endured a gruesome end at the hands of The Inexorable Arrow of Time. It loved watching Space Jam and taking pictures dunking on children’s size basketball hoops. Remaining family members include The Constant Clicking of Every Single Joint in My Body, The Part of Me that Gained Ten Pounds, and The Realization that Most of My Childhood Dreams Will Remain Unfulfilled. In remembrance of the good times, we only ask that Hollywood please refrain from remaking Space Jam with LeBron James, as it will never hold up to the original.
The Part that Wanted to Go Outside
(1993 – 2020)
The Part of Me that Wanted to Go Outside disappeared without a trace during the COVID-19 quarantine. In its most vibrant years, it begged my parents to go to the park and would look for any excuse to ride its bike. Survived by its child, The Part that Finally Figured Out How Instacart Works, and its life partner, The Part that Gained Another Ten Pounds, it will be remembered most for the time that it led to a dangerous sunburn that could only be soothed with sour cream and painkillers. It will be interred at Lambs Farm in Green Oaks, IL, a petting zoo where I was once chased by goats until I gave them my sandwich.
The Part that Could Eat Lasagna Without Bursting Into Tears
(2008 – 2020)
Born in 2008 after I discovered the On-Cor Party Size Meat Lasagna in college, this part of me lived a vibrant, helpful life that sustained me through graduate school. It passed away gracefully after the realization that everything in the world is horrible right now and that even the cheesy, gooey comfort of oven-baked pasta cannot bring me happiness. It is survived by a tendency to burst into tears for no particular reason and The Part that is on Medication Now. Memorial services will be sponsored by Stouffer’s, which, while being the superior microwave lasagna, will never fill the void in my soul.
The Part that Was Against Time Travel Because of Potential Butterfly Effects
(2001 – 2020)
Though it lived a good life ever since I first read the book Time Travel in Einstein’s Universe, this part recently contracted an incurable disease and had to be euthanized. Its only survivor is The Part of Me that Really Wants to Go Back in Time and Somehow Avoid My Slow Deterioration and All the Terrible Stuff that’s Happened in 2020. Please send any flux capacitors or other physics-bending ideas to P.O. Box 8675309, Hill Valley, CA 91905.