obit obsession

I am absolutely unable to stop obsessing about my father's obituary, most of which I wrote, borrowing some pre-written bits about his professional life, with the requisite architectural and urban planning jargon. Right after it was written I noticed that my brother, who wrote the final sentence, had written the name of the church, St. George's, without an apostrophe, which freaked me out. Then I started noticing my mistakes: forgetting any mention of my mother, putting the wrong preposition (in the sentence 'of immediate concern 'of' mankind': itself a ridiculous sentence), and using some over-the-top language at times. But I didn't have much time, and I was given two drafts, both of which were totally unacceptable: borderline illiterate bullshit: calling a book he wrote in 1980 a bestseller, saying he "adored cats and kids and was reduced to 'puddy' in their presence": a patent lie: my father may have liked cats, but he hadn't owned one in 24 years, and he was pretty much indifferent to children. It doesn't help that the final obit went on at such great length about his professional achievements, and then has these ridiculous errors. People tell me no one cares, but it seems to be proliferating on the web, as various professional organizations with which Dad had an association have picked it up. But try as I might, I cannot let it go; it's become a symbol of all that went wrong with his death and its immediate aftermath, all the buried family tensions, all the bullshit and hypocrisy and denial I saw around me during that week in Nova Scotia immediately after his death.