Creative and Non-Traditional Obituary Examples

The standard obituary suits most people. Some, it would have embarrassed: the ones who were funny, or blunt, or who wrote their own, or who simply were not a "survived by" kind of person. For them, the shape can change. What cannot change is that the reader still needs the facts: who, when, and where the service is. Five shapes below, invented names, and the rules.

Two rules first

• It has to sound like them, not like the writer. A funny obituary for a person who was not funny is a performance at a funeral. If the voice is theirs, people will laugh and cry in the right places.
• The facts stay. Name, dates, family, service. However the rest is shaped, those four are in it, and findable.

1. Funny, because he was

Gerald "Gerry" Pappas, 74, of Baltimore, died on September 4, 2026, which he would want you to know was not his idea.

Gerry owned Pappas Auto Body on Eastern Avenue for forty years, and in that time he repaired roughly nine thousand cars and insulted roughly nine thousand customers, all of whom came back. He was a terrible golfer who played every Saturday, a worse cook who cooked every Sunday, and the best grandfather in the state of Maryland, by his own ruling, which he repeated until it was true.

He is survived by his wife, Dina, who put up with him for forty-nine years and would like that noted; his children, Nick and Sophia; and six grandchildren, who are instructed to behave. Services Saturday at 11:00 a.m. at St. Nicholas Greek Orthodox Church. The family asks that in lieu of flowers you get your brakes checked. He always said you were due.

2. Written by the person, ahead of time

Some people write their own. It reads differently, and it should; keep the first person and let the family add the last paragraph.

If you are reading this, I have died, and I would rather you heard it from me.

I was born in Duluth in 1941, which was a good year to be born in Duluth. I taught high school chemistry for thirty-four years and I am sorry about the smell. I married Ruth in 1965 because she laughed at the right things, and she has kept laughing at them for sixty years, which I have never understood and never questioned. We had two children who turned out better than we expected and three grandchildren who turned out better than they deserved.

I do not want a fuss. I want you to go fishing, once, this year, and think of me when the line goes slack, because it will.

Dad wrote this in 2019 and told us where it was. Walter Lindgren died at home on September 2, 2026. He is survived by Ruth, by Karen and Eric, and by Olivia, Sam and June. A service will be held Saturday at 2:00 p.m. at Gloria Dei Lutheran Church. Go fishing.

3. A letter to them

Dear Mom,

You died on Thursday, at 88, in your own bed, which you said was the only acceptable arrangement. We are writing this one to you because you would have corrected anything we wrote about you.

You taught piano to half of Montgomery County and made every one of them play "Für Elise" at a recital, which half of them still resent. You played the organ at First Methodist for fifty years and added Ellington to the postlude when the minister was not listening. You sent birthday cards with five dollars in them to thirty-one descendants, on time, every year, and you knew when we had not cashed them.

We will be at First Methodist on Saturday at 11, all thirty-one of us, and Linda is going to play. She says she will not add Ellington. We will see.

Love, Linda, Robert, Susan, and everyone.

4. A recipe

For a person remembered by one dish, the obituary can be the recipe, with the life in the method.

Rosa Alvarez's Sunday Beans (1938 – 2026)

Start with two pounds of pintos and the assumption that twelve people are coming, because they are. Soak overnight while raising six children in a three-bedroom house on Montana Avenue. Add onion, garlic, a ham hock if there is one and salt if there is not. Simmer for four hours, during which sew a First Communion dress, feed a neighbour's child, and refuse to learn to drive because somebody always owes you a ride. Taste. Add more water than seems wise; there is always someone at the door. Serve to whoever showed up and make it seem like there had always been enough.

Makes: nineteen grandchildren, eleven great-grandchildren, and a parish hall that will be full on Saturday at 10:00 a.m. at St. Patrick Cathedral, where Rosa's funeral Mass will be held. Bring a dish. She would have.

5. A list

Things Jimmy Aldridge was right about, 1955 – 2026

That you should never buy the extended warranty. That the drummer is the band. That Linda was the one, in 1979, in the parking lot of the Admiral Twin, before she had said a word. That a truck should be driven until it stops. That you call your mother on Sundays. That the class of '73 should meet every five years, at his house, because he was the only one who could find everybody. That three kids were plenty and seven grandchildren were a bonus. That the porch was for drumming on Fridays.

Things he was wrong about: that he had more time. Services Saturday at 2:00 p.m. at Fitzgerald Funeral Home, Tulsa. Linda, Jason, Amy, Chris, and the class of '73 will be there. Bring a story from 1972.

When not to

• When the person was private. A creative obituary draws attention; some people would not have wanted it.
• When the family disagrees. One relative's joke is another's wound. If anyone close objects, write the standard one and save the creative one for the eulogy, where it can be delivered by the person who means it.
• When the death was sudden or violent. Humour needs a little distance; a letter or a list can still work.
• For the newspaper, often. Papers charge by the line and some decline unusual forms. Put the creative version on the memorial page or the program, and give the paper the plain facts.