Questions to Ask Your Parents Before They Die Book
Twenty questions sized for a keepsake book, one to a page, for families making a written record of a parent's life in their own handwriting or dictated word for word.
The questions
Open any question for the note
Where did you grow up, and what did the mornings sound like there?
Why ask it
A written answer needs something concrete to start from, and sound recalls a place faster than a date does. It also gives a first page that is easy to fill, which matters if the book is going to be finished.
Who raised you, and what did they expect of you?
Why ask it
Expectation is the useful half. It records whether they grew up being relied on, protected or overlooked, which explains more of the rest of the book than a list of relatives would.
What kind of student were you, and was there a teacher who changed anything?
Why ask it
School is easy to write about on a tired day and often produces the first surprise, since parents rarely volunteer that they were bored, top of the class or quietly miserable. Ask for the teacher by full name so the person can be looked up later.
What was on the table at your childhood meals, and who cooked it?
Why ask it
Food is the surest route into a household's routine, income and region, and it lets them write without judging what counts as important. Note the days of the week, since many families ate the same dish on the same day.
Who was your closest friend when you were young, and what became of them?
Why ask it
Friendships drop out of family stories almost entirely, and a name on paper now can still be traced. If the friendship ended, the reason usually says something about the world they were living in at the time.
What did you do for fun before anyone depended on you?
Why ask it
We remember our parents in their responsible years, so the dancing, the motorbike and the card school go unrecorded. It sits early because it is the page that makes grandchildren laugh, and that goodwill is what carries a parent through the harder pages later on.
What is the first work you were ever paid for, and what did you do with the money?
Why ask it
A specific first wage dates the story and situates the family's circumstances without any need to ask about money directly. What they spent it on is often the detail grandchildren remember.
List every home you have lived in, and mark the one that felt most like yours.
Why ask it
A list needs no composing, so it fills a page on a bad afternoon, and it doubles as a map for anyone chasing records later. The address they mark is rarely the one the rest of us would have guessed.
Describe your grandparents, and their parents if you knew them, so we would recognise them in a room.
Why ask it
This collects the people nobody living can still picture. Ask for voice, temper, hands and habits rather than dates, because records will supply the dates and nothing else will supply this.
Is there a song that puts you back somewhere, and where does it put you?
Why ask it
Music reaches scenes that direct prompts cannot, and it keeps working when a lot else has gone. Write down the title and whoever sang it alongside their answer, so the song can be found and played again.
How did you meet the person you built your life with, and what do you remember about the first month?
Why ask it
Asking for the first month rather than the whole romance gets past the version told at anniversaries. If they had more than one long relationship, leave room for both rather than assuming the marriage.
What did the day I arrived look like from your side of it?
Why ask it
Written by hand, this page tends to become the one the family keeps. Ask for the practical details, the weather, the hospital, who was waiting, since those are what fade first.
What did you learn the hard way about money, work or marriage?
Why ask it
Naming the three areas produces something usable instead of general reflection. Ask for the mistake as well as the lesson, or the page turns into advice with no story behind it.
What are you proudest of that nobody thanked you for?
Why ask it
Pride in children is easy to write and tells you little. The unacknowledged version usually brings out work, caregiving or a sacrifice the family never knew the size of.
What were you afraid of, and did it ever happen?
Why ask it
Fear comes out straighter on paper than across a kitchen table, and the second half stops the page becoming a list of worries. Answers here often explain a household rule you grew up under and never understood.
What is the hardest thing you have lived through, and what got you through it?
Why ask it
In a book, a hard answer can be given without having to watch anyone's face, which is why some parents will write what they will not say. Leave the page long and do not ask them to read it aloud.
What did you believe about God and about what comes after, and did it change?
Why ask it
Children often guess wrong about where a parent finally landed on this, and the guess shapes decisions made on their behalf. Whatever they put down also settles the tone of a funeral without anyone having to raise the funeral.
Which recipes, objects or habits should stay in the family, and who should have them?
Why ask it
This is the page that gets used after they die. Record the item, the person and the reason in their words, and keep any recipe in the amounts they actually cook by.
What do you want us to do for each other once you are gone?
Why ask it
Siblings fall out over competing versions of what a parent would have wanted, and one sentence in their own hand ends most of that. Keep this page to relationships and leave anything about property to the will.
What do you want written down about you, in your own words?
Why ask it
Ending with an open page hands them the last say and often produces the part of the book you could not have prompted. If they leave it blank, note the date and offer the page again later.
Making the book
Practical guidance for the conversation itself
How to put it together
One question to a page
A question with a full blank page under it gets a longer answer than a form with ruled lines. Put the question at the top in large, plain type.
Let them write, or write for them
Handwriting is worth keeping if they can manage it. If arthritis, eyesight or illness makes writing hard, take dictation and keep their phrasing exactly, including the repetitions.
Date and sign each page
A date and a place turn a nice answer into a record. Add who was present, since that becomes the thing families argue about years later.
Leave the book with them between sittings
Several parents fill more pages alone than in company. Agree when you will come back for it rather than waiting indefinitely.
Copy it before it travels
Photograph or scan each page as it is filled. Books get lost in moves and in the weeks after a death, and a copy also lets siblings each have one.
What to expect
- Some pages will stay empty. A blank page is an answer, and pressing for it usually closes the whole book.
- Answers may be shorter than you hoped. Written recollection is slower than talking, and three sentences in their hand will outlast an hour of yours.
- The order will not hold. Let them skip ahead and come back.
- If memory is failing, ask about routines and places rather than dates and sequences, and accept a version that differs from the family record.
- Keep a separate note of anything practical they mention, documents, accounts, wishes, since a keepsake book is not the place to store that information.
What to avoid
Correcting or tidying their words
Grammar and dialect are part of what makes the record theirs. Add a footnote if a fact needs qualifying rather than editing the sentence.
Turning it into a deadline
A book presented with a date to finish by makes the reason for it explicit and uncomfortable. One page a visit is a reasonable pace.
Doing it only with one parent
If both are living, make two books. A joint book quietly becomes the story of whichever of them writes more.
Asking a hard question first
Begin with the places and the ordinary days. The harder pages get better answers once the habit of writing in the book is established.