Writing An Obituary For Dad

Writing An Obituary For Dad

The hardest part of writing an obituary is that most people treat it like a legal document. It isn't. It's a public notice that happens to contain a human life. You're going to write it once, under stress, with incomplete information, and then it gets published. Getting it right matters, but it also matters less than you think while you're doing it. Here is how it actually works. You start with a facts sheet. Birth date, place of birth, death date, place of death. Names and ages of surviving family members—spouse, children, grandchildren, siblings. Predeceased relatives if the family wants those named. Education, military service, occupation. This is the scaffold. Without it, the piece falls apart because readers expect these facts. Funeral home websites, newspaper editors, and church bulletins all require them. Skipping them makes the obituary look careless. After the facts sheet comes the narrative paragraph. This is where most people stall. The trick is to pick three concrete details that actually describe your dad, not three generic compliments. "He was kind" and "He loved his family" are accurate but useless. They don't distinguish him from any other father. Write the thing about how he rebuilt carburetors in the garage on Sunday mornings. Write the fact that he drove a 2003 Ford F-150 until the frame gave out. Write that he was the only person you know who could identify every bird call in Ohio. Specificity does the emotional work. Readers figure out he was a good man because you showed them.

Writing An Obituary For Dad: A Practical Workflow

I usually recommend starting with a blank document and filling in the skeleton first. Get the dates and names locked down before you write a single descriptive sentence. Then add the biographical narrative. Then the service details. Then the closing line about donations or acknowledgments. This order prevents the common problem where the obituary becomes a list of names with no body, or worse, a long sentimental paragraph with no funeral information at all. You need to decide on the publication venue early. Local newspapers charge by the line or by the word. Some charge flat rates for a standard obituary block. Others run them for free if the funeral home handles the submission. Online memorial sites like Legacy.com are free but have different expectations—they tend toward longer, more detailed pieces. If you're submitting to a newspaper, ask the editor about word limits before you write past them. I wasted four hundred words on my first attempt and had to cut my dad's actual career summary down to two sentences because the paper wouldn't run it otherwise. One edge case that catches people off guard: when a parent has been through a prolonged illness or addiction, the family often argues over whether to mention the cause of death. I dealt with this writing my own father's obituary. He had COPD for twelve years. My sister wanted it named directly. I wanted to soften it. We compromised on "after a long battle with chronic lung disease." That's factual, not graphic, and it gives readers who knew him context without turning the piece into a medical report. The funeral director told us this was a standard phrasing and wouldn't raise eyebrows anywhere.

Another thing nobody tells you: verify every name spelling before submission. I once submitted an obituary that listed my grandmother's married name correctly but used her maiden name in the predeceased section. Her current family members saw it in print and called us upset. It seems minor. It isn't. Go through the entire document checking every proper noun against actual records, not your memory. Service information should go at the end. Date, time, location. Whether it's visitation first and then the service, or just one event. Burial details if applicable. If there's a reception afterward, mention it. This is logistical information, not sentiment. Keep it clean and unembellished. For the donation request—if you're including one—be specific. "In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to the American Lung Association" is standard. "Send cash to his favorite charity" is not. Pick an actual organization, get the exact legal name and mailing address or website, and include it. Families sometimes skip this because it feels impersonal, but it's genuinely helpful to people who want to contribute and don't know what your dad cared about.

The biggest mistake I see is writing an obituary that sounds like it was generated by committee. Everyone throws in their two cents, the result is a bland document that no one recognizes as the actual person. Sit down with one or two people who knew him well. Draft it yourself. You have the most complete picture of who he was because you're the one doing the writing. Don't over-consult. The second you open it up to unlimited edits, you lose the voice. Word count for a standard newspaper obituary typically runs between 200 and 400 words. That's tight. Every sentence needs to earn its place. If you find yourself writing "He will be deeply missed," cut it. The facts and the specific details you chose earlier already communicate that. Extra sentiment words are filler. A few final things worth noting. Not every obituary needs to be positive. If your dad had a complicated relationship with certain family members, you don't have to pretend otherwise, but you also don't need to air it publicly. Listing "survived by his wife and children" without mentioning estranged siblings is standard practice. It's not deception. It's discretion. The obituary isn't the place for family history.

If you're working with a funeral home, they can often draft the obituary for you based on information you provide. This saves time but risks the template problem—many funeral homes use the same boilerplate language across dozens of submissions. Read whatever they produce carefully before it goes to print. It's your father's name on the page, not theirs. Print a draft and read it aloud before submitting. You'll catch awkward phrasing and rhythm issues that scanning on screen misses. Then submit it. You're done.