How to Write an Obituary: A Gentle Guide, With Examples

November 8, 2026

My grandfather died during COVID, in a hospital room where visitors weren’t supposed to be, let alone whisky.

His closest friends and family brought both anyway. A bottle of VO, his Canadian whisky, came in under someone’s coat, and he had one last drink with the people he loved. Everyone partook. He’d decided he was ready, and he left the way he’d lived: on his own terms, and a little against the rules.

His memorial was on the beach, his favorite place in the world. Nobody wore black. Everybody stayed late. It was, by every account, a great party, which is exactly what he would have wanted and exactly what he’d have complained about missing.

His name was Tom. I’m his namesake. From him I inherited an entrepreneurial streak, a certain willfulness, and the St. Christopher medal he wore around his neck for more than forty years.

When it came time to write about him, nobody reached for “kind” or “generous.” They reached for the VO, the beach, the medal and the willfulness.

That’s the whole secret. You don’t have to write it perfectly. You only have to write it true.

A word before you start

Most of us write one or two obituaries in a lifetime. We write them in the worst week of it, usually after midnight, usually at the kitchen table, with the funeral home expecting it by nine.

So let’s be gentle about this, and take it one small piece at a time.

Two lengths, and why you probably need both

There’s the short one, for the newspaper, which charges by the line and is not sentimental about it. Aim for 150 to 300 words.

And there’s the long one, the life story, for the program and the people who’ll read every word twice. Anywhere from 400 to 800 words.

Write the long one first. That’s where the memories are. Trimming is easier than inventing.

Gather the facts, because someone will check them

This part isn’t poetry. It’s the scaffolding. Get it right once and you never have to think about it again. Ask a sibling or the funeral director to double-check.

Full legal name, and the nickname they actually answered to
Age, where and when they were born, where and when they died
Their parents’ names
Spouse or partner, children (with their spouses in parentheses, the way newspapers like it), grandchildren, great-grandchildren and siblings, all spelled correctly
Anyone important who went before them
School, work, military service, faith community, the clubs they never missed
Service details: date, time, place, and visitation if there is one
Where donations should go, if anywhere

Then start with the small things

Nobody remembers an obituary for its adjectives. “Kind.” “Generous.” “Loving.” They’re accurate, and they’re forgotten by the time the page is turned.

What people remember is the casserole. The gold star stickers she kept in her purse long after she’d stopped teaching. The way he whistled through his teeth when the Saints scored, and the louder way he whistled when they didn’t. The medal he never took off.

If you’re stuck, ask three people one question: What’s the thing everyone remembers about them? Write down exactly what they say, in their words. That’s your obituary. The rest is dates.

The order most obituaries follow

You don’t have to follow it. But when the cursor is blinking and the coffee has gone cold, it helps to have a map.

The announcement. Name, age, hometown, and when they died.
Where they came from. Birthplace, parents, the house they grew up in.
What they did. Work, service, what filled their days.
Who they were. The paragraph people will actually remember. One true detail beats ten adjectives.
Who they leave behind. Survivors first, then those who went before.
The service. When, where, and what to do about flowers.

An example, short

Margaret “Peggy” Ellis, 84, of Dunedin, passed away peacefully on March 3, 2026, surrounded by her family. Born in Dayton, Ohio, to Walter and Ruth Kessler, she taught third grade at Garrison Elementary for thirty-one years. She was a lifelong member of Grace Community Church and a fierce bridge player. She is survived by her children, Ann (Mark) Doyle and James Ellis; five grandchildren; and her sister, Carol Hayes. She was preceded in death by her husband of fifty-eight years, Robert. A celebration of life will be held Saturday, March 8, at 11 a.m. at Grace Community Church. In lieu of flowers, the family welcomes gifts to the Garrison Elementary library fund.

An example, long

Peggy taught third grade for thirty-one years and never once printed a report card. She wrote every one by hand. She kept a sheet of gold star stickers in her purse until the very end, because, as she liked to say, “Somebody always needs a gold star.” She never met a stranger, and she never forgot a name.

(Peggy is a sample, by the way. She lives in our templates. But you knew someone exactly like her.)

Words for when the right ones won’t come

For the passing: passed away peacefully, died at home, entered into rest, went home to be with the Lord, returned to Allah, was called home, slipped away
For who they were: steady, quick to laugh, stubborn in the best way, endlessly curious, the first to show up, the last to leave the party
For the family: survived by, leaves behind, will be lovingly remembered by, was preceded in death by

What to leave out

The full birth date and home address. Identity thieves read obituaries too. The year is enough.
Old family feuds. Even a gentle hint will be read three different ways by three different cousins.
Medical details, unless the family wants them shared, for instance to point people toward a cause.

Before you send it

Read it out loud, slowly. Then hand it to one other person and ask them to check every name and every date. It’s the step everyone wants to skip at 1 a.m., and the one they most wish they hadn’t.

If you’d like a hand

Every Always Your Angel funeral program comes with a sample obituary already written in, so you only change what’s theirs. And if there simply isn’t time, choose “Do it for me” and we’ll write the obituary from your notes and finish the whole program within 24 hours.