How a Soviet pilot saved my life from beyond the grave

Reading about death can help us celebrate and appreciate life. Christine Manby found that writing obituaries gave her a much-needed new perspective

Illustration by Tom Ford

A Soviet Air Force colonel saved my life from beyond the grave. OK, maybe “saved my life” is a bit of a stretch but it’s no exaggeration to say that the obituary I wrote for Marina Popovich at the end of 2017 marked a much-needed change in direction for me after a period when things had seemed very bleak indeed. As 2017 came to a close, I was mourning my father and struggling to keep afloat financially as my career as chick-lit novelist continued its decline from “found in all good bookshops” to “heavily discounted in some garden centres”. When I was asked if I’d like to try writing an obituary, it seemed a horribly apt metaphor for my life.

If you’ve never heard of Marina Popovich then you should look her up at once. Popovich set her sights on becoming a pilot when she was still a child. At 14, she tried to join the air force but was told she was too short. Undeterred, Popovich went home and constructed a rack on to which she nailed a pair of boots from whence she hung upside down every day for a year. When she next applied for flying school, she’d squeaked past the height limit by millimetres.

I wrote Popovich’s obituary one damp December evening and felt inspired and uplifted by her story, which convinced me that with perseverance most problems can be overcome. Over Christmas, the obits editor sent three more commissions my way. When Christmas turned into a nightmare – everyone had flu and then mum’s brother, our dear Uncle Roger died – the obituaries gave me a focus. So, this week’s wellness suggestion from me is: why not read the obituaries? There’s much to be gleaned from these short celebrations of life. Here’s what I’ve learned over the past two years.