Writing Your Own Obituary

The September 29, 2024 Opinion section of The New York Times featured a think piece by Kelly McMasters titled, “Why I Write My Obituary Every Year.” (See lead photo.) Finding that title eye-catching and provocative, I read further. I learned that McMasters had been writing her obituary every year since she was 12. As it turns out, her mother had been given that assignment as part of her training as a hospice volunteer, and the young McMasters decided to follow suit in a journal that she was keeping at the time.

Now I had read about this spiritual practice in years past. Even though most folks don’t like to dwell on death in any case — and certainly not their own — I think you can see that the practice might make sense. Such a spiritual practice enables you to take a long view of your life — of your accomplishments, your life as a whole, how you would like to be remembered by others, and what you are most proud of in the long run.

In fact, there is a formula — an outline of sorts — that funeral homes and newspapers tend to follow when writing or accepting obituary information. The facts: age at the time of death, sometimes cause of death, survivors, achievements at work or in school, and finally what the community or others will remember about the person’s life. I and perhaps you have had experience writing obituaries for family members or former spouses, drawing on memories and other written documents lovingly preserved.

In Nicholas Kristof’s memoir Chasing Hope, which I wrote about in a recent blog, he cites David Brooks’ distinction between “resume virtues” and “eulogy virtues.” Resume virtues are the actual achievements you have won over your lifetime. A personal example, if you will permit me, is winning a top award from the American Psychological Association for my Ph.D. dissertation research and published work on schizophrenia and symptom expression.

Brooks defines eulogy virtues as the deeper qualities for which a person is missed when they are gone. They reflect the purpose-driven and deep meaning that your whole life has represented. For me of course this is reflected by my church life — my love of preaching and the attempt to foster deeper faith in those I have led as both Rector and Associate Rector in my current life.

McMasters ends her piece:

I’m grateful my mother brought the practice of looking at death this way to the dinner table all those decades ago and continued to do so through all the stories of her dying patients after that. Just as my aunt taught me the value of keeping a journal, my mother’s obituary exercise taught me the practice and value of holding death close, so I could remember to live.

Well I think this all makes a great deal of sense. Maybe we should all try to write our own obituary as part of our new year’s resolution and periodic life review ... so we can all remember to give thanks for the life we’ve been given and, importantly, “remember to live!”

Not a bad idea, yes? Blessings to all.