Evening Post Obituary Notices

So, you think obituaries are just sad little columns for dead people? Think again. The Evening Post’s obituary section is actually the wildest, most unhinged soap opera in print. It’s where you learn that your neighbor, Mildred, who always waved with two fingers, was actually a competitive chainsaw sculptor and a former rodeo clown.

The Art of the Euphemism

Let’s be honest—obituaries are the last chance for a family to roast you with a straight face. “After a long battle with a stubborn case of living” is code for “he refused to die.” I once saw one that read, “She went home to be with the Lord, taking her legendary fruitcake recipe with her.” That’s not a death; that’s a hostage situation finally resolved.

Some families get creative. One obituary noted, “He was preceded in death by his patience, his hair, and three pet turtles.” Who knew dying could involve a zoo clearance sale? If you die before your turtle, you lose at life.

Surprising Facts You Never Knew

Did you know that the very first obituaries in the Evening Post were written in 1878, and they were shorter than a tweet? They basically said, “John Smith died. He had a horse. The end.” Today, they’re miniature biographies where every uncle is “a legendary fisherman” who “caught a tuna the size of a Toyota Corolla.”

Here’s a shocker: 60% of obituaries include a secret hobby like competitive bingo, amateur taxidermy, or writing angry letters to the editor. One man’s obituary claimed he “held the world record for the largest collection of novelty salt shakers.” That’s not a hobby; that’s a cry for help—and I respect it.

Donald (Don) Strawbridge: Swansea Obituary & Death Notice - Swansea

The Passive-Aggressive Goldmine

Obituaries are the ultimate place for subtle family drama. Read between the lines. “She is survived by her three children, who will always remember her unwavering opinion on their career choices.” Ouch. I saw one that said, “No flowers, please. Instead, donate to the local animal shelter, because Aunt Carol’s cat liked you more than your cousins did.” That’s a verbal uppercut from beyond the grave.

Then there’s the classic: “He will be missed by his wife Sandra, and his golf buddies, in that order.” Translation? He spent more time on the fairway than in the marital bed. The dead tell the truth, and the living just hit “submit.”

The Guilty Pleasure

Be honest: you’ve scanned the obits looking for someone you don’t know, just to laugh. It’s the café gossip of the afterlife. One woman’s obituary proudly declared she “slept through the 1989 earthquake and never apologized for it.” That’s not a flaw; that’s a superpower.

Barbara Demaid of Clydach, Swansea — Obituary & Death Notice - Swansea

And let’s not forget the bizarre requests. One man asked for his ashes to be “fired from a potato cannon at a family reunion.” The Evening Post printed it without batting an eye. Because if you’re going out, you might as well go out with a bang—and a mashed potato joke.

So, Pour a Coffee and Read

The Evening Post obituaries are a mirror to humanity: messy, petty, hilarious, and deeply weird. They remind us that we’re all just one good euphemism away from eternity. Next time you see one, don’t weep. Celebrate the fact that someone, somewhere, managed to die with a handshake, a bad pun, and a cat that outlived them by ten years.

And if your own obituary ever gets published? Make sure it includes the phrase “he fought bravely against the salad bar.” Trust me, it’ll get a laugh—and that’s the real legacy.