Writing the obituary.
Someone hands you this job in the worst week of your life and expects it by Thursday. This tool walks you through it: answer the prompts in your own words, pick a voice, and a draft takes shape — yours to copy, edit, and use anywhere.
Nothing you type here is saved, sent, or published — the page is just a quiet desk. An obituary is also optional: a private letter to the family is a legitimate substitute, and no one is grading you.
Full name — and if everyone actually called them something else, put it in quotes in the middle.
- Check the spelling twice, out loud, with someone else. Obituary name errors wound, and they get engraved into the record.
- Maiden names in parentheses help old friends find them: Margaret (Nowak) Kowalski.
Something like "87, on June 30, 2026" — however your family says dates.
- Verify the age against the birth date — off-by-one age errors are the single most common obituary mistake.
The town they'd have named if you asked where they were from.
- If they moved late in life, "of Wilmington, formerly of Buffalo" honors both — and tells the Buffalo people this is their Peg.
What did they actually spend their days doing? Not just job titles — the work, the raising of people, the garden, the service, the shop. Two to five sentences.
- Chronology is optional. What they did and who they did it for matters more than the order.
- One concrete detail beats three abstractions: "drove a green Impala she refused to replace" outlives "was known for her frugality."
What would people say was most them — the phrase they always said, the habit, the seat at the table, what made them laugh? Two or three sentences.
- This paragraph is the one people will read aloud to each other. Write it last if it's hard; write it first if it's what you have.
- Humor is allowed. If they were funny, a funeral-parlor-solemn obituary would be the wrong portrait.
The people they leave: spouse first by convention, then children (spouses in parentheses), grandchildren by name or count, siblings, and anyone else who belongs.
- The conventions are conventions, not laws. List people the way your family actually works.
- Complicated families can use grace and omission: an obituary is not a legal document, and "survived by her children" needs no asterisks.
- People forget the pets. If the dog mattered, the dog can be named.
The people who went before — a spouse, parents, a child, a sibling.
- Naming a child who died decades ago often matters enormously to the family. This is a place to remember them publicly one more time.
When and where — visitation, service, burial, or a celebration later. If plans aren't set, "services will be announced" is fine.
- Say whether the service is open to all — people genuinely don't know if they're invited.
- A word about venue accessibility (stairs, parking) is a kindness to the elders who will come.
Where should kindness be directed? Use the charity's exact name.
- The exact legal name helps the charity actually receive the gifts.
- "Do something kind for a stranger and tell no one" is also a legitimate instruction, and people follow it.
Your draft
Start with their name above, and the draft will take shape here as you go. Nothing you type is saved or sent anywhere — this page is just a quiet desk.
- A recent photo — and consider the story behind the one you choose; families often pick the person at their happiest, not their most recent.
- Every name spelled correctly, proofread ALOUD by a second person. Errors in an obituary cannot be gently forgotten.
- Ages and dates checked against documents, not memory.
- The nickname everyone actually used — an obituary for "Margaret" that never says "Peg" will read like a stranger's.
- Military service, if any — it matters for honors and for the record.
- Donation preference with the charity's exact name.
- Whether the service is public, and a note about venue accessibility.
- The pets, if the pets mattered. People smile at the dog's name and that smile is the point.
- The newspaper's deadline and per-word or per-inch pricing before you finalize length.
- Save the final text somewhere permanent — obituaries have a way of being needed again, at anniversaries and in family histories.
About publishing
Newspapers charge by length
Print obituaries are paid notices, usually priced by line or inch — a full obituary commonly runs from a couple hundred dollars to over a thousand in metro papers. That is why length discipline exists: many families run a short factual notice in print (name, dates, survivors, services) and publish the full, warm version online for free.
The funeral home will usually place the notice for you and post the full obituary on their website at no extra charge — ask; it's included in what you're already paying for.
The obituary is optional
No law requires one. Some families publish nothing and instead write a letter that travels by email and group chat to exactly the people who loved them. If public notice matters (old colleagues, scattered communities), a short print notice plus a fuller online version covers it. If it doesn't, you are excused — spend the energy on the eulogy, or on rest.
Three voices, one life
The same invented person, written three ways — so you can hear the difference before you choose.
Margaret "Peg" Kowalski, age 87, of Wilmington, North Carolina, died June 30, 2026.
Born March 3, 1939, in Buffalo, New York, to Jan and Maria Nowak, she served for thirty years as school nurse at Holy Cross Academy. She was a devoted parishioner of St. Mary's and a founding member of the parish garden committee.
Surviving are her husband of 61 years, Stanley; children Anne (Robert) Miller, Thomas (Diane) Kowalski, Susan Chen, and John Kowalski; nine grandchildren; and her sister, Dorothy Nowak. Preceded in death by her parents and her brother, Frank.
Services: Visitation Friday 5–7pm at Coastal Funeral Home; Mass of Christian Burial Saturday 10am at St. Mary's. In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions may be made to the Holy Cross Academy nursing fund.
Peg Kowalski of Wilmington died June 30, 2026, at 87, leaving the family richer for every year.
Born to Polish immigrants in Buffalo, Peg spent thirty years as the school nurse at Holy Cross, where two generations of children got their scraped knees and their courage attended to in equal measure. She raised four children, one enormous garden, and the standing record for pierogi produced in a single Christmas Eve. She said "we'll manage" about everything from broken furnaces to broken hearts — and the family always did.
Left to carry the stories forward: Stanley, her husband and pinochle rival of 61 years; her children Anne, Tom, Susan, and John and their families; nine grandchildren who never once left her house hungry; and her sister, Dot.
The family will gather Saturday at 10am at St. Mary's, with a celebration of her garden and her recipes to follow in the parish hall — everyone welcome, elastic waistbands advised. She would have loved a gift to the school nursing fund, or simply your favorite story about her, told out loud.
Peg Kowalski died on June 30, 2026. She was 87, and Wilmington was home.
She was a school nurse for thirty years and good at it — steady hands, no fuss, a lollipop at the end. She grew tomatoes that made the neighbors competitive and made pierogi that ended arguments. When anything went wrong she said "we'll manage," and because of her, we did.
She leaves behind Stanley, her husband of 61 years; four kids; nine grandkids; her sister Dot; and a garden that will miss her most in August.
About the services: Mass is Saturday at 10 at St. Mary's, and you're invited. Come to the parish hall after. If you want to do something: give to the Holy Cross nursing fund. Mostly, remember her out loud.
Writing the eulogy too? The eulogy helper carries that one. And when the services are past, the stories the obituary couldn't hold deserve somewhere to live — that's what a free family archive is for.