Once in a while, notice of someone’s death takes on a life all its own – the addict who was also a mother with a beautiful voice, the hard-living, sweet-souled uncle, the former beauty queen grandma who wrote her own obituary.
Three months into my RJI fellowship experimenting with obituaries, I’ve been thinking a lot about what makes an obit also a good read. What makes people share them? What do they have in common?
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