Raleigh Kaminsky wonders: "If one day you find yourself writing an obituary, will you want to share the unvarnished (but humorous) truth? Or will you fib a bit, and say all was chocolates and roses?" (Getty Images)

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If you read the obituary notices like I do, then you probably enjoyed reading the self-deprecating summary of Burt Cohen’s life on Wednesday. I read it twice and laughed harder each time. As noted in my commentary “Learning about life through death,” published by Minnesota Star Tribune Opinion on July 13, 2021, I am fascinated by obituaries.

Mr. Cohen’s (although he’d probably say that was his father’s name and I should call him Burt) obituary struck a chord with me. He was so honest about his well-lived life. No flowery language, just the bare-ass truth about who he was — overweight, a habitual procrastinator and a synagogue non-attendee.

I always enjoyed his articles in Mpls.St. Paul Magazine and his take on everyday life. He enjoyed poking fun at himself and others. I am sure no one minded being cited in one of his commentaries for some misgiving, as they were now a “local celebrity” having had their first names printed in a popular publication. A friend secretly told me that she always wanted her name listed in his birthday greetings. And who could forget those stick drawings at the end of each article? A Rembrandt he was not. But he was a good human being.

About nine months ago, much to my shock and unbearable sadness, I had to write the obituary for my husband. As I sat down to put into words the life of the man I was married to for 52 years and who died from a rare form of cancer within three months of his diagnosis, I thought: How do I summarize a life well-lived and gone too soon? In addition to the requisite family information, how much do I say about his many interesting jobs, worldwide travel, love of sports, his always color-coordinated clothing (even his undies and watch)? How do I condense a person’s life so those who read it get the essence of who he was?

With Burt’s (we are now on a first-name basis) obituary in mind, would I rewrite the obituary and reveal some truths, such as how my husband would open the refrigerator and say, “Where is the (fill in the blank)?” and I would reply, “Just move a few things and you’ll find it.” Or how he’d give me the “eye” when he wanted to leave an event and I wanted to stay a bit longer.

If I were writing like Burt, I’d say my husband hated fish, had very little patience, did not like it when people were late, and the list goes on.

We all have faults. But do we want them in our obituary and printed for all to read? Mostly likely not. But I admire the obituary writers who courageously mention a loved one’s addiction or struggles with mental illness. The deceased were only human, and maybe, by revealing the truth, it helps bring to light the uncomfortableness of life and death.

If one day you find yourself writing an obituary, will you want to share the unvarnished (but humorous) truth? Or will you fib a bit, and say all was chocolates and roses? (My husband wasn’t one to bring me unexpected bouquets of flowers.) Chances are, amid the tears rolling down your cheeks, you will write about all the best things about your loved one. You won’t mention the warts (save those for the eulogy, where a little laughter is always good), but share their accomplishments, their pride in their family, and all the special things they loved. Your loved one will be smiling from above.

Raleigh Kaminsky lives in Plymouth.