The memory of writing my dad's obituary stays with me, nearly 30 years later.
I sat on the floor, cross-legged, staring at a blank page from a steno book. I was armed with a sharp No. 2 pencil, as though I had prepared for a bizarre adult-life version of the Iowa Test of Basic Skills.
In 1984, the home-town newspaper wanted just the facts.
So I started writing. Just the facts.
Birth and death dates - check.
Family, Mother, father, survivors - check.
Employment - check.
Church membership - check.
Funeral details: officiant, time and place - check.
And don't forget to mention the luncheon back at the church - check.
Facts didn't include how, on his meter-reading route, he saved a man who tried to hang himself.
Facts didn't include his passion for fishing and camping.
Facts didn't include how he enjoyed retirement for just four months before he died.
Facts didn't even include the name of one member of our very small family: Kaitlyn, his granddaughter.
That sterile, stark obituary left a lasting impression of what an obituary should be: a reflection of the person's life, not just the facts.
So, that's the purpose of this blog: to serve as a repository for the most memorable obituaries. And we hope you will participate as well.
In the comments block, suggest obits that you've found that you would like to share. Keep a keen eye toward copyright rules. For obituaries printed before 1923, please include the text as well as the citation (name of newspaper, date, page number).
For newer obituaries, feel free to submit links to the obituaries that they find particularly memorable: touching, heartwarming, shocking, or otherwise notable.
