It hits different when you see a name you actually recognize in the paper. Not a Hollywood star—though we’ve lost plenty lately—but a person who shaped the literal ground you walk on. Maryland recent obituaries have been heavy lately. It feels like a massive library is burning down one book at a time.
Honestly, we spend so much time doomscrolling national news that we miss the giants living right next door in Towson, Catonsville, or Annapolis.
Take Dan O’Connell III. If you’re a sports fan in this state, you’ve heard his work even if you didn't know his name. He was the "stat man." The guy who knew every obscure figure for the Baltimore Ravens and Towson University. He passed away on January 10, 2026, at 72. He wasn't just a guy with a clipboard; he was a mentor who spent thirty years making sure student-athletes got the recognition they deserved. When someone like that goes, the collective memory of Baltimore sports takes a massive hit.
Why the Recent Waves Feel Heavier
January is always a bit brutal for obituaries, but 2026 started with a particular sting. We aren't just losing "residents." We are losing the people who built the infrastructure of our daily lives. From the dairy farmers in Forest Hill to the civil rights icons who chose to make their final stand here.
People often think obituaries are just for the family. They’re wrong. They are historical records.
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The Names You Might Have Missed
Look at William "Bill" Edwards from Forest Hill. He died on January 13. He was 90 years old. He was a Navy vet and a dairy farmer, sure, but he also volunteered as a math instructor. Think about that. A guy who spent his life working the land and serving his country still found time to make sure kids understood algebra. That’s a specific kind of Maryland grit you don’t find just anywhere.
Then there’s Seth Alan Abelson over in Leonardtown. He passed on January 2. Seth was a force. He played guitar, wrote songs, and apparently once opened for Metallica. But you know what he was most proud of toward the end? Being a farmer. He loved his chickens and ducks. It’s those little details—the pivot from stadium lights to Fresh Pond Neck—that make these stories human.
The National Shadow Over Local Loss
It’s easy for local names to get buried when the national headlines are screaming. The start of 2026 saw the passing of Bob Weir, the Grateful Dead legend, on January 10. He was 78. He’d beaten cancer but lost the fight to lung issues. A lot of Marylanders were "Deadheads," so that one rippled through the local record stores and dive bars from Fells Point to Bethesda.
We also lost Claudette Colvin on January 13. She was 86. People always talk about Rosa Parks, but Colvin was the teenager who refused to give up her seat nine months before Parks did. Her death is a reminder that the people who literally changed the world are still among us, until suddenly, they aren't.
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A Quick Look at the Numbers (Without the Bore)
If you scan the registries from the Baltimore Sun or the Cremation Society of Maryland, the sheer volume is staggering.
- JoAnn Marie Iglehart (83) in Columbia, who fought Parkinson’s with a legendary kind of grace.
- Elizabeth Ann "Betty" Gettier (January 11), a Catonsville staple.
- Gina Dillard (61) from Pasadena, who was known for being "sassy and spirited" and hosting the best Ravens parties in Riviera Beach.
Losing someone like Gina is a blow to the neighborhood vibe. Who’s going to host the pool parties now? Who’s making the cocktails for girls' night? It’s these "unimportant" details that actually matter most when we talk about community.
How to Handle the Research Yourself
If you're looking for someone specific, don't just stick to the big papers. The Baltimore Sun is great, but it’s a paywall jungle.
- Check the funeral home sites directly. Places like Gonce Funeral Service or Ambrose in Arbutus often post fuller stories and tribute walls where people share actual memories, not just dates.
- Legacy.com is the gold standard. It aggregates almost everything, but it can be noisy. Filter by "Maryland" and then by the specific town.
- Don't ignore the "Guest Book." Sometimes the most revealing stuff about a person’s life is a comment from a high school friend they haven't seen in fifty years.
The Reality of Our "Digital Memories"
There’s a weird thing happening with Maryland recent obituaries. They’re getting shorter. As local newsrooms shrink, the "free" obituary is becoming a relic of the past. Now, families often have to pay by the word. This means we are losing the "color"—the stories about the pet ducks or the specific way someone brewed their coffee.
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We are moving toward a world of "Born, Died, Service at 2 PM." That’s a tragedy for local history. If you’re writing one for a loved one, keep the "sassy" parts in. Mention the Ravens games. Mention the math tutoring.
Taking Action: What You Can Do
When you’re looking through the latest listings, don’t just read for the sake of it.
Write the note. If you see a name you recognize, even if it’s just someone you bought coffee from for ten years, leave a comment on their digital guest book. Those snippets of "I remember when you..." are worth more to a grieving family than a generic flower arrangement.
Support local archives. Many of these stories disappear once the funeral home takes the page down. If you’re a family historian, save those digital obituaries now. Use tools like the Internet Archive or just a simple PDF save.
Check the dates twice. Funerals are often scheduled weeks out. For example, Frank C. Miller Sr. passed on January 12, but his family isn't gathering until January 25. If you’re planning to pay respects, the "recent" part of the obituary refers to the death, not necessarily the ceremony.
The loss of a neighbor is the loss of a shared story. Whether it’s a sports legend or the lady who had the best cookie jar in Catonsville, their absence leaves a hole in the fabric of the state. Read the names. Remember the chickens. Don't let the stories fade into the background noise.