How To Write an Obituary

Musings on death with dignity 🕊️

When my mom told me that my aunt passed away last weekend I was in the kitchen putting away the groceries. She sat on the couch as I stood frozen in place, taking a few seconds to process the news before breaking down into tears. If it weren’t for Sufjan Stevens softly playing in the background I probably would have gone fully numb, but there was something comforting about Javelin providing a soundtrack for this painful moment. (While none of this was planned in advance, it felt really cinematic and I think my aunt would have appreciated that because she lived for drama.) I don’t really remember what my mom was saying to me as she rushed to pull me into a hug, but I could hear every word of “Everything That Rises.”

As I felt myself unraveling in my mom’s arms, I was grounded by the gospel of Sufjan: “Jesus lift me up to a higher plane (To a higher plane)/ Can you come around before I go insane? (Before I go insane)/ Cast me not in hell, while my demons rage (While my demons rage)/ Turn yourself around to see what I can say (To see what I can say)/ Everything that rises must converge/ Everything that rises in a word/ Everything that rises must converge/ Everything that rises.” He has this beautiful way of breaking me into smithereens and then lifting me back up again; I am deeply moved by Sufjan’s vulnerability and admire how he continues to persevere through the most devastating heartbreaks. His art is the greatest gift and we are so blessed to receive it. After three consecutive days of listening to Sufjan’s full discography on loop, I finally felt ready to move on to something a little lighter so Solange’s A Seat at the Table is currently on rotation followed by Mitski’s The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We. Back to being weary of the ways of the world…

Every so often, I think about all the journalists who are tasked with writing editorial obituaries. Admittedly, it’s not something I’ve ever desired to do—I once considered if I would be more willing if it meant securing a job at a dream publication, but no matter how I pitched it in my head I couldn’t bring myself to do it. They wrote about death and I wanted to write about life! My cousins have asked me to write my aunt’s obituary which is probably the most important narrative that I will ever tell. (If you want to avoid this fate, don’t be the only professional writer in your family!) While I’ve written a handful of bios for music artists, I’ve never done something like this before so I’ve been pulling up some of the obituaries that have touched me in recent years like Caity Weaver’s obituary for her mother that went viral. For me, writing my aunt’s obituary is a great opportunity to learn more about our family history and in a way I think it will provide everyone with a sense of closure so I’m glad I can contribute in a meaningful way. I hope that I make her proud with what I compose based on the 70 years she spent making her mark on the world; I already miss her presence, but the memories we shared will stay with me forever.

Many of you probably assumed that this newsletter was dead in a ditch and I can’t say that I blame you since I haven’t published anything in over a year. Truthfully, it’s been on pause until I figure out precisely how I want to position myself outside of work. But as I take space to process this grief, I felt compelled to check in about what’s been weighing heavy on my heart. I felt better equipped to deal with death this time around because I have all the tools that I need to grieve (this will look different for everyone). Whether or not you’re prepared for it, there is never a convenient time for someone to die. In recent years, I’ve noticed a consistent stream of folks transitioning in tandem with the seasonal transition from fall to winter.

Retail therapy can be a powerful coping mechanism so as we approach the festive season of gift guides galore, I’d love to offer up my own grief starter pack in case anyone is wondering what might be appropriate to give someone in mourning beyond flowers and condolences: a chunky sweater of your choice to hide in, eye masks to rehydrate those windows into the soul from all the crying, a fun tissue box cover to zhuzh up the sadness combined with seasonal depression, Javelin on vinyl to spin when you need some extra support, and beeswax tea lights to burn in tribute of the loved ones that you’ve lost.

If you’re still reading this, please enjoy this seasonal playlist as another token of my appreciation. Thanks so much for sticking around and take care of yourself. 💗