JournalOctober 14, 2026

How to Write an Obituary for a Wife: A Guide With Examples

Writing an obituary for your wife means summarizing a shared life in a few hundred words, often within days of losing her. Here is a simple order to work in, what to include, and two short examples to borrow from.

How to Write an Obituary for a Wife: A Guide With Examples — Their Life Song Journal

Of all the things asked of you in the first week, this one may be the strangest: write a few hundred words that will stand as the public record of your wife's life, and have it finished by Thursday, because the newspaper has a deadline.

It is a hard assignment at the worst possible time. But an obituary does not have to be beautiful to be right. It has to be true, and it has to be clear enough that the people who loved her know when to come and where. Everything past that is a gift you give her, and you can give as much or as little of it as you have in you today.

Start with the facts, because they are the easiest part

Before you try to write a sentence about who she was, gather the information every obituary needs. Having it on one page in front of you takes a surprising amount of weight off the writing.

  • Her full name, including her maiden name and the name she actually went by
  • Her age, date of birth, and place of birth
  • The date she died, the city, and — only if you want to say it — whether she was at home or with family
  • Her parents' names, and the date and place of your marriage
  • Her education and the work she did, paid or unpaid
  • Churches, clubs, volunteer work, military service
  • Survivors: you, children and their spouses, grandchildren, siblings
  • Family who died before her, especially parents, siblings, or a child
  • Service details: date, time, place, visitation, whether it is public
  • Where to send flowers, or a charity she cared about instead

If you are unsure of a date or a spelling, ask. Her sister will know, and she will be glad you called.

The order most obituaries follow

You do not need to invent a structure. Nearly every obituary moves through the same five steps, and readers expect them in this order.

One. The opening line: her name, age, where she lived, when she died.

Two. Where she came from: born in, daughter of, grew up in, graduated from.

Three. The life she built: your marriage, her work, her children, the things she spent her hours on.

Four. Who she leaves: survivors first, then those who went before her.

Five. The practical close: service information, and where to direct flowers or donations.

Most published obituaries run between 200 and 500 words. Newspapers often charge by the line, so if cost matters, ask the funeral home for the rate before you start. It is easier to write to a length than to cut a paragraph you have already grown attached to.

A template you can fill in

Read this as scaffolding, not as prose. You will replace nearly every word, but the shape will hold.

[Full name, including maiden name], [age], of [city], died on [date] at [place]. She was born [date] in [city], the daughter of [parents' names].

She married [your name] on [date] in [city]. Together they [raised a family / built a home / spent decades doing something specific]. She [worked as / graduated from / was known for].

[One or two sentences about what she loved. Be specific.]

She is survived by her husband, [name]; her children, [names and spouses]; [number] grandchildren; and her [siblings]. She was preceded in death by [names].

A [service / celebration of life] will be held [date] at [time] at [place]. In lieu of flowers, the family asks that donations be made to [organization].

Two short examples

Both of these are invented, and both are deliberately plain. Notice that what makes either one feel like a real person is a single concrete detail, not an adjective.

A long marriage.

Eleanor Jane Whitfield (née Carroll), 78, of Beaufort, died at home on March 4, 2026, with her family beside her. She was born September 12, 1947, in Savannah, the daughter of Thomas and Ruth Carroll.

Eleanor married Robert Whitfield on June 8, 1968. She taught fourth grade at Beaufort Elementary for thirty-one years, and for most of those years she kept a jar of peppermints on her desk for the children having a hard morning. She sang in the choir at First Presbyterian, grew tomatoes she was privately competitive about, and answered the phone on the first ring, always.

She is survived by her husband, Robert; her daughters, Anne Whitfield Price (Daniel) and Carol Whitfield; four grandchildren; and her brother, James Carroll. She was preceded in death by her parents and her sister, Margaret.

A service will be held Saturday, March 8, at 11 a.m. at First Presbyterian Church, Beaufort. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to the Beaufort County Library.

A shorter one, for a wife who died young.

Sarah Nguyen Bell, 41, of Portland, died October 2, 2026, after an illness she faced with characteristic stubbornness and humor. Born in Portland on May 19, 1985, she was the daughter of Minh and Linda Nguyen.

Sarah married Thomas Bell in 2013. She was a pediatric nurse at Providence for twelve years, a terrible but enthusiastic singer, and the person in any room most likely to be holding someone else's baby.

She is survived by her husband, Thomas; her sons, Elliot and Oliver; her parents; and her brother, David Nguyen.

A celebration of life will be held October 11 at 2 p.m. at Laurelhurst Park. Donations in her memory may be made to the Providence Children's Health Foundation.

What people get wrong, and what to do instead

The most common mistake is reaching for words that could describe anyone. "She was a loving wife and devoted mother" is true of millions of women, and so it tells her grandchildren nothing. One real sentence beats a paragraph of praise: the peppermints on the desk, the first-ring phone call, the tomatoes.

A second mistake is trying to fit everything in. An obituary is not her biography. It is the doorway. Choose two or three things that were unmistakably hers and let the rest live in the eulogy, the service, and the stories people will tell each other afterward.

And one quiet word of caution: because obituaries are public, leave out her street address, her date of birth paired with her mother's maiden name, and anything else that would be useful to someone with bad intentions. Funeral homes will usually flag this, but not always.

If you cannot do it today

You are allowed to hand this to someone else. A daughter, her closest friend, the funeral director who writes these every week — any of them can draft it while you read it over and change what is wrong. Signing off on the right words is still writing them.

And if, weeks from now, the obituary feels too short for who she was — that is normal, and it is not a failure of the obituary. Some families go on to write a longer tribute, record the stories that got left out, or have a song written from the memories that would not fit in 300 words. At Their Life Song, that is the work we do, for families who want something to keep after the service is over.

For now, though, the obituary is enough. Say her name, say what was hers, tell people where to come. That is the whole job.

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