The most important thing I’ve ever written

Behind the scenes of the hardest and most meaningful assignment of my life.

Hi friends,

This week’s newsletter is different than the rest you’ll find in my archives. It’s not about pitching do’s and don’ts or strategies for landing coverage for your clients.

It’s about my most important piece of writing to date: my grandmother’s obituary.

I want to share it here because if there’s one throughline in this newsletter, it’s that our work—PR, journalism, storytelling—is about humanity first. Amid the rush of pitching, revising, and following up, many of us (myself included) forget that there are humans—actual humans experiencing life’s biggest joys and hardest heartaches—behind every email exchange and published piece. This is a moment to remember that.

Over the last year, in between writing gift guides, e-bike reviews, travel features, and more, I’ve been quietly working on my first-ever obituary in the background. Worrying it might be too much for me to handle emotionally, my grandmother was initially hesitant in asking me to write her obituary after she was diagnosed with terminal cancer last summer. But in one of our many conversations on the patio of her Hudson Valley home, where I spent every day after school during my childhood, she asked if I would do it. And I instantly said yes.

My first Christmas. I was her first grandchild, and she loved me.

I dug through family records on ancestry.com and interviewed my grandmother herself to make sure I got the details right. Then came draft after draft, each one read aloud to her, notes in the margins, and revision after revision—more revisions than I’d ever agree to at even the glossiest of the big glossy magazines—until finally, she said: “This is good.” I saved the draft, left a placeholder for the date of death, and yesterday, I filled it in with the final details.

There’s so much more I could have included—like the 1956 newspaper announcement of her wedding, which described her white peau de soie gown (a perfect example of her lifelong flair for fashion); the countless summer trips she and my grandfather took to Lake George, his favorite place; or the fact that she lived life more intentionally than anyone else I know. But in the end, she asked that it reflect that she was “a woman of substance.” And together, I think we achieved that.

Left: Me, age 11 or 12, with my grandma. Right: Grandma, late teens or early 20s, total babe.

Writing this was the hardest and most meaningful assignment of my life. I’m sharing it with you now in hopes it reminds us all why words matter—and why the stories we tell about each other carry so much weight. I hope you read it.

Thank you, as always, for giving me the space to share what feels important to me.

xx Joni

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My grandmother’s obituary

Melissa Sweet passed away on Sept. 2, 2025, in Saugerties, N.Y., surrounded by loved ones. After being diagnosed with lung cancer in July 2024, she chose palliative care, facing the road ahead with strength in her faith. In her final months, she continued to mentor her Enneagram students, deepened her spiritual practice, and cherished time with her friends and family, remaining connected with the relationships and practices that gave her life meaning.

The former Melissa Alice Marrs was born on April 24, 1937, to Edwin and Mildred Marrs in Syracuse, N.Y. She was the third of four children—the rest boys. From an early age, Melissa was a spiritual seeker. Some of her earliest memories were of feeling an innate connection to the Divine. Her relationship with Jesus Christ would guide her throughout her life.

A member of St. Gregory’s Episcopal Church in Woodstock, N.Y., Melissa’s faith was both a source of solace and a lifelong pursuit of deeper understanding. She always identified as a Christian while exploring different philosophies and spiritual practices in pursuit of “goodness, truth, and beauty.” In 2008, she earned her certification as a Spiritual Director at the Center for Spiritual Direction and Contemplation in New Rochelle, N.Y. She later received certifications from the Enneagram Institute in Stone Ridge, N.Y. These trainings gave her the foundation to help her students come to a deeper understanding and appreciation of themselves.

Faith wasn’t the only calling that took root in Melissa’s early years—music found her, too. Inspired by a cousin she admired, Melissa began to play the flute in fifth grade. This decision would shape her life. She became a conservatory-trained musician (studying at both the Eastman School of Music and Syracuse University) and played with chamber groups throughout the Hudson Valley. In 1980, Melissa became a founding member and principal flutist of the Woodstock Chamber Orchestra (now the Woodstock Symphony Orchestra).

In addition to performing, Melissa was a dedicated flute teacher. She mentored her students with compassion, encouragement, and commitment to musicianship for more than 50 years.

The dedication and passion Melissa channeled into music also defined the way she approached family life. On June 3, 1956, she married Alfred J. Sweet Jr. in Hendricks Chapel at Syracuse University. Over the course of their 60-year marriage, they were proud, devoted parents, raising six children—a number Melissa always felt destined to have—and later welcoming 11 grandchildren and two great-granddaughters.

As a mother and grandmother, Melissa had an instinct for what each of her children and grandchildren needed: a handwritten card with a heartfelt message, a cozy afternoon spent doing puzzles, or a deep conversation over a cup of tea on her patio. She encouraged each of them to follow their dreams and celebrated their achievements along the way.

Melissa’s life was a testament to faith, inner growth, and intimate connection. She spent her life creating beauty through music, nurturing relationships, and guiding others with compassion and wisdom. Her legacy continues to resonate in the hearts of all who knew her.

Melissa was predeceased by her husband, along with three brothers (Edward Wilson Marrs, John Carlyle Marrs, and David Henry Marrs). She is survived by her six children: Jeffrey Sweet and his wife Ivone of Saugerties; Elizabeth Neilson and her husband William of Knoxville, T.N.; Stephen Sweet and his wife Jai of Ithaca, N.Y.; Jonathan Sweet and his partner Marcia Baudanza of Saugerties; Brian Sweet and his wife Amy of Red Lodge, M.T.; and Kimberly Sweet and her wife Meghan of Noblesville, I.N. She is also survived by four granddaughters (Joni Sweet, Emily Sweet, Nisha Sweet, and Mira Sweet); seven grandsons (Christopher Whitehead, Henry Neilson, Jake Sweet, Benjamyn Sweet, Arjun Sweet, Jordyn Sweet, and Kyree Sweet); and two great-granddaughters.

Melissa will be laid to rest at the peaceful Columbarium at St. Gregory’s Episcopal Church in Woodstock, where sunlight bathes the bluestone walls and butterflies dance in the breeze.

In lieu of flowers, friends are invited to make donations to Hudson Valley Hospice and St. Gregory’s Episcopal Church.