By Shirley Salemy Meyer 

When my father suffered through chemotherapy treatments for colorectal cancer, my grief overwhelmed me. During this period of helplessness and, to be honest, hopelessness, I turned to writing. I kept lists of questions to ask the doctors and drafted emails about my father’s condition to concerned family members and friends. But I found that the most potent antidote to my grief was the simple act of writing his obituary.

Many might view this exercise as premature, and perhaps even morbid: why write an obituary in advance for someone who isn’t famous, for someone whose death will be deeply felt by his community of family and friends but certainly not merit national or even regional news treatment? On the surface, the process of writing gave me something to do beyond waiting with my siblings for doctors’ rounds, watching the vital signs monitor, and compulsively drinking coffee. But in a deeper, more profound way, writing the obituary brought me closer to my father.

For many of us, the messy process of writing — steeped in truth, perception, and reflection — helps us make sense of the world, to see things, and people, from multiple perspectives. In writing about my father before his death, I coped with my sorrow by evaluating the major events in his life. I gained a fuller understanding of where he came from and who he is. As I typed out his life story, I celebrated him.

Today, at age 90, he’s still alive. He survived that cancer, but he now sleeps a lot and falls too often. As his health continues to decline, the draft of his obituary — a document that I named “Dad History” instead of “Dad Obituary” and revise at least once a year — provides comfort to me because it is a story of his resilience and his values. It is also nearly complete, with only a few holes to fill when it’s inevitably published.

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If you decide to write an obituary in advance for a family member or friend, a good place to start is by making a list of important milestones. That list can include place of birth, high school, higher education, military service, marriage, employment, and club memberships. If you don’t have this information, the person whom you are writing about can help — after all, that person is still alive! If that person’s memory is in decline, you can ask your subject’s family members or peers. My parents put this information together in a document when they were in their late 70s.

“For many of us, the messy process of writing — steeped in truth, perception, and reflection — helps us make sense of the world, to see things, and people, from multiple perspectives.”

This kind of pre-writing work is vital because it creates a foundation for the obituary — but it only tells part of the story. The most intimate and engaging obituaries go beyond these boilerplate details. To craft a fuller appraisal of your subject’s life, you can ask your loved one some open-ended questions that will hopefully assuage any awkwardness about the purpose of your conversation and, most likely, lead to revelatory conversations. 

You can ask your subject: What do you remember about where you grew up? What things are you most proud of in life? What did you like most about your profession, or dislike most? How did you meet your spouse? What are some of your favorite memories? How do you want people to remember you?

If you feel comfortable enough, you can explain your purpose to close family members and friends and ask them the same kinds of questions — ones that lead to conversations instead of yes-or-no responses. These people can give descriptions and perspectives that are detailed and telling and perhaps can fill in dates or other missing information.

Through all this information-gathering, be sure to note powerful, poignant responses that you may want to quote in your draft. Trust your sensibilities: you will know a quotable insight when you hear it. Sometimes, too, you will want to quote an oft-repeated phrase or motto of the subject.

When you have enough information to start writing, try to follow a simple structure. It is best if the first paragraph includes the person’s full name, age, current place of residence, hometown, and a phrase or two highlighting key accomplishments. Subsequent paragraphs can delve into the details of those accomplishments. Then, after revealing the most interesting information in these first few paragraphs, you can begin a new paragraph that begins the chronology of your subject’s life, with paragraphs that follow progressing that timeline and ending with surviving family members and funeral details.

The person whom you are writing about may want to read your draft. If so, bravo — you will have the benefit of the most knowledgeable fact-checker. This proofreading may also give your loved one a sense of agency.

During one visit to my parents in the suite they share in a continuing-care complex, I told my father about the obituary. Of course, he asked to read it. He spent a few weeks with it, and then returned it to me with notes in the margin. His main complaint? I included information about his years as a ping-pong player. He believed he squandered part of his early adulthood playing instead of studying. More than a half-a-century later, that activity still bothered him.

I honored his request and omitted the sentence. Even so, the story of his life is an intimate portrait of a military veteran who was the classic salesman — persistent and unpretentious, honest and hard-working — with a big family and an even bigger heart.

After spending so much time expecting my father’s passing, my mother’s need for hospice care at the start of the Covid-19 pandemic came as a surprise. Although she didn’t have Covid, her health had declined precipitously. “Mom History” became my focus. I drew on documents she had kept to learn details about her parents’ immigration and better understand the era in which she was brought up. The daughter of immigrants, she attended a two-year school for women and then worked as an executive secretary for ten years. Eventually, she managed my father’s home-based office while raising four children, making meals for people who were struggling, and masterfully playing bridge.

She, too, survived a worrisome period of declining health. It seems, perhaps, that my obituary writing has added years to my parents’ lives.

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Shirley Salemy Meyer is a former reporter at news organizations including The Des Moines Register and the Associated Press. She now shepherds undergraduate students through the rigors and rewards of crafting nonfiction essays. She lives with her family in the suburbs of New York City.