What an Obituary Is Really For
If you’ve found yourself staring at a blank page, wondering how you’re supposed to summarize a life while your own heart feels heavy, you’re not alone. For many people, writing an obituary is one of the most emotionally complicated tasks they’ll ever face.
You may feel pressure to “get it right.”
You may worry about saying too much—or not enough.
You may be afraid of leaving something out, or of choosing the wrong words entirely.
This article exists to gently answer a question many people are quietly asking:
What is an obituary really for?
And just as importantly: what doesn’t it have to be?
Why Writing an Obituary Feels So Hard
An obituary often arrives at a moment when your mind and body are already overwhelmed. Grief doesn’t move in straight lines. It can cloud memory, slow decision-making, and make even simple tasks feel exhausting.
On top of that, there’s often unspoken pressure:
Pressure from tradition
Pressure from family expectations
Pressure from how obituaries “usually” look
You might feel like you’re being asked to perform something public at a deeply private moment. That tension alone can make the task feel impossible.
If this feels harder than you expected, it doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong. It means you’re human.
What an Obituary
Is Really Meant to Do
At its core, an obituary has a simple purpose:
To acknowledge a life and help others understand that a loss has occurred.
That’s it.
An obituary is not meant to:
Capture everything a person ever was
Prove how much they were loved
Meet anyone else’s standards of “proper”
Serve as a final, perfect statement
Instead, an obituary is a marker. A pause. A moment of recognition.
It says: This person mattered. They lived. They are missed.
Everything beyond that is optional.
What an Obituary Does Not Have to Be
Many people carry silent assumptions about what an obituary should look like. Let’s gently set a few of those down.
An obituary does not have to be long.
It does not have to be formal.
It does not have to list every achievement.
It does not have to sound like anyone else’s.
It also does not have to be written all at once, or written by one person alone.
Most importantly, it does not have to be perfect.
Perfection has no place in grief.
What to Include in an Obituary (At a Basic Level)
If you’re looking for something grounding and practical, it can help to remember that an obituary only needs a few core elements.
Basic Information
Full name (and nickname, if they were known by one)
Date of birth and date of death
Where they lived
A Few Meaningful Details
This is where heart matters more than structure.
What they loved
What brought them joy
How people will remember them
This doesn’t need to be poetic or profound. Simple truth is enough.
Service or Memorial Information (If Applicable)
If you’re including this, it’s okay to keep it brief. It’s also okay to leave it out entirely, especially if plans are still uncertain.
There is no rule that says an obituary must contain every detail.
A Gentle Example
Consider this:
Instead of trying to summarize an entire lifetime, one family chose to include just a few lines about what mattered most. They mentioned morning coffee, an old dog who followed him everywhere, and the way he never missed a phone call on birthdays.
For those who knew him, it was instantly recognizable.
For those who didn’t, it still felt human.
That was enough.
Common Worries People Have (And Kind Answers)
“Is it okay if it’s short?”
Yes. A short obituary can be just as meaningful as a long one.
“What if I don’t know what to say?”
You don’t have to start with words. Start with memories. Even one small truth is enough.
“What if family members disagree?”
This happens more often than people admit. When possible, focus on shared ground rather than complete agreement. An obituary does not have to resolve everything.
“Do I have to publish it publicly?”
No. Many people choose private or digital memorials instead. There is no obligation to publish in a newspaper or public forum.
Writing for the Living, Not the Past
One quiet truth about obituaries is that they aren’t really written for the person who has died.
They’re written for the living.
They help friends, family, and even strangers orient themselves in the reality of a loss. They give people a place to land emotionally. They create a shared moment of acknowledgment.
When you think of it that way, the goal shifts. It’s no longer about getting everything right—it’s about offering something real.
There Is No One Right Way
This may be the most important thing to hear:
There is no single correct way to write an obituary.
There is only your way, shaped by love, memory, and the limits of what you can hold right now.
If all you can write is a few lines, that is enough.
If you need to come back to it later, that is okay.
If you choose something unconventional, that is allowed.
The act of remembering itself is what matters.
If You’d Like Gentle Help
Some people want guidance. Others want space. Both are valid.
If you find yourself wanting support—whether that’s structure, wording, or simply reassurance—you’re not alone in that either. Help doesn’t take anything away from the love behind your words.
A Quiet Closing Thought
If you’re here, reading this, it means you care.
And that care already tells the most important story of all.
Whatever you write—however brief, however imperfect—will be enough, because it comes from love.
