I don’t want to write one of those obituaries that says nothing about the person who died except their dates, family members, college degree, and where they worked. I want to write an obituary that gives you some feeling for the kind of person she was. I also don’t want to hide or skirt around the fact that she committed suicide. People who want to know what became of her should know, and people considering suicide or grieving for others who have committed suicide, should know a little about her, too. The reader should get some feeling for how tragic this really was—what a loss this was, to her family, friends, co-workers, even her cats.
Last night, I made a list of facts about Kzingirl’s life, without much concern for which ones belong in her obituary. Then I talked on the phone with my aunt for a couple hours, telling her stories about Kzingirl, exploring my memory of her. We talked a bunch about what does and what does not belong in the obituary.
I think now I have all the notes I need. The obituary will tell facts, not analysis, just as any ordinary newspaper article should. It will tell what’s interesting about her. It won’t tell why she killed herself, since no one can really answer that, but it will say a word or two about the anger and hopelessness that she felt. It will tell her story, briefly, factually, forthrightly.
I’ll solicit comments from her family and a friend of hers before submitting it to a local newspaper.
