Marge Holcombe has gone viral from beyond the grave.
She would see the humor in that.
In 12 years of writing a humor column in The Island Packet, Marge never showed herself to be a computer geek. She was puzzled by the term "email."
But when Marge died Aug. 12 "from a wide assortment of ailments," the humor her readers appreciated turned up again.
She started her public life here by telling us how she solved the traffic problem by always taking right turns only.
She ended it with her own obituary, which she wrote in first-person.
Marge wrote that she was born "in the era of 'Children are to be seen and not heard' and my sister Heather and I were thought to be deaf mutes for most of our childhood."
Of her final years in a retirement community, Marge wrote, "My waistline, if you could find it, was testament to The Seabrook's cuisine."
Marge always had her readers believe she had all the snorting social skills of Lily "One Ringy Dingy" Tomlin, the housekeeping ability of Charles Dickens' Miss Havisham, the touch in the kitchen of a tire maker.
Her readers snatched up two collections of her columns, which her husband, Jack, published to raise money for The Deep Well Project and Memory Matters through the Hilton Head Island Rotary Club.
But with her obituary, Marge reached a much wider audience.
Pam Gallagher, a recovering journalist from Sun City Hilton Head, sent it to a number of her former colleagues. She did not know Marge, but was struck by how this unusual obituary "captured her spirit."
This week, Huffington Post senior writer Ann Brenoff posted Marge's entire obituary online under the headline: "This Is The Best Obit. Ever." Within a day, it attracted about 1,000 Facebook likes, 200 Facebook shares, 24 tweets, 20 comments and 61 emails, whatever that is.
Surely, Marge would be most pleased with the person who commented: "Fantastic -- Erma Bombeck?"
Gallagher said, "I just loved the idea that she got the last word."
Two years ago, Gallagher clipped out another obituary, but it only went as far as her refrigerator door. She walked over to read a line from Mary M. Overton's obituary: "Mary is best described as stated in her book, 'Cruising in the Fast Lane': 'My life was gay, daring, sensible, seemingly without direction, not ordinary and rarely dull.' "
She bought the book online.
And I liked the way the family of Maxine Ludden shared her humor when she passed away last year in Beaufort.
"She was an early resident at Pleasant Point Plantation, where she kept a single-shot .22 by the back door and claimed it played a role in teaching the local raccoons and squirrels to steer clear of her birdhouses," the obituary read.
"She later moved to Marsh Harbor and spent considerable time analyzing how long plants could live without water. She loved a good mystery but staunchly resisted her family's encouragement to pen her own work on the subtleties of overcooking meat."
Maxine Ludden, like Marge Holcombe, spent thousands of hours as a hospital volunteer. They were not jokesters. They gave to the community in many ways.
Marge used most of her "selfie" obituary to thank others. And to remind us one last time that life is not deadly serious.
Follow columnist David Lauderdale at twitter.com/ThatsLauderdale.