돌아가시다 (doragasida) — The Word Koreans Speak Most Carefully
돌아가시다
돌아가시다 (doragasida) is the honorific form of 죽다 (jukda), “to die.” It means that an elder — or anyone you’re expected to respect — has lost their life. Even people who have studied Korean for years pause for a beat in front of this word. Not because they don’t know what it means, but because the moments in which it gets said are always heavy. A death notice that arrives at dawn. A friend who’s been out of touch for days showing up in black. A dinner table that suddenly goes quiet in the middle of a story about grandma. At moments like these, Koreans don’t say 죽었다 (jugeotda), “died.” They say 돌아가셨다 (doragasyeotda).
Take the word apart first and everything else falls into place. It’s 돌아가다 (doragada), “to go back,” plus -시- (-si-), the ending that elevates the subject of the sentence. In other words, the honorific is already baked into the word itself. And that’s where the rule beginners miss most often comes from — even when you’re speaking casually (반말, banmal) to a friend, the -시- never drops. The person being elevated isn’t your listener; it’s the subject of the sentence, the person who has died. To a friend you say “우리 할머니 돌아가셨어 (uri halmeoni doragasyeosseo)” — “my grandmother passed away.” Say “우리 할머니 죽었어 (uri halmeoni jugeosseo)” instead, and your friend will flinch before anything else registers.
As a rule, the word applies to people — and specifically to people that both you and your listener ought to respect. Your parents, your grandparents, a teacher, a boss’s family member, an elderly neighbor: for them you use this word without exception. Conversely, in places where emotion is supposed to stay out of it — a news report, a death certificate — the word actually starts to sound out of place. It’s a word with mourning built into it.
Checking with the National Institute of Korean Language
Here is how the National Institute of Korean Language’s Basic Korean Dictionary defines the word.
돌아가시다 (doragasida) (verb) (높임말로) 생명을 잃다. (nopimmallo saengmyeongeul ilta.) [en] pass away; decease — (honorific) To lose one’s life. [ja] なくなられる【亡くなられる】 — 命を落とすことを表す尊敬語。 [es] fallecer, pasar a mejor vida — (TRATAMIENTO HONORÍFICO) Perder la vida. [zh] 去世 — (尊称)失去了生命。 — National Institute of Korean Language, Basic Korean Dictionary (krdict.korean.go.kr)
Notice that the definition is a single line. That one parenthetical, (높임말로) — “(honorific)” — sitting in front of “to lose one’s life” is the entire word. The meaning is exactly the same as 죽다 (jukda); the only thing that differs is the attitude. A Portuguese translation isn’t listed in the dictionary, so for reference it would be roughly falecer / partir desta para melhor (this part alone is our own translation).
Here are the dictionary’s actual example sentences, exactly as listed.
항상 자신보다 교회를 위하시던 김 목사님이 돌아가시다니 너무 안타까워. (Hangsang jasinboda gyohoereul wihasideon Gim moksanimi doragasidani neomu antakkawo.) I can’t believe Pastor Kim, who always put the church before himself, has passed away — it’s just heartbreaking. — National Institute of Korean Language, Basic Korean Dictionary (krdict.korean.go.kr)
This is a sigh, almost something said to oneself. The ending -다니 (-dani) at the end of the sentence carries the feeling of “I can’t believe it.” It’s also the partner this word pairs with most often in real conversation.
건강하시던 선생님께서 그렇게 갑자기 돌아가시다니 믿을 수가 없어요. (Geongganghasideon seonsaengnimkkeseo geureoke gapjagi doragasidani mideul suga eopseoyo.) I can’t believe our teacher, who was so healthy, passed away that suddenly. — National Institute of Korean Language, Basic Korean Dictionary (krdict.korean.go.kr)
Notice the structure: -던 (-deon) sketches the person as they used to be, and only then comes the death. 건강하시던 (geongganghasideon), “who was healthy,” 정정하시던 (jeongjeonghasideon), “who was hale and hearty,” 위하시던 (wihasideon), “who devoted himself to” — calling up an image of the person while they were alive, and then delivering the news, is the classic rhythm of Korean condolence.
그렇게 정정하시던 분이 돌아가시다니 뭐라 드릴 말씀이 없습니다. (Geureoke jeongjeonghasideon buni doragasidani mwora deuril malsseumi eopseumnida.) I can’t believe someone so hale and hearty has passed away. I’m at a loss for words. — National Institute of Korean Language, Basic Korean Dictionary (krdict.korean.go.kr)
This is something people genuinely say to the bereaved. “뭐라 드릴 말씀이 없습니다 (mwora deuril malsseumi eopseumnida)” doesn’t mean you failed to find words of comfort — it is a complete expression of condolence in itself. At a Korean funeral hall, keeping your words short is the polite thing to do.
노모가 돌아가시다. (Nomoga doragasida.) One’s aged mother passes away. — National Institute of Korean Language, Basic Korean Dictionary (krdict.korean.go.kr)
A dictionary-style sentence: bare fact, no emotion. 노모 (nomo) is a Sino-Korean word meaning “aged mother,” used mainly in writing.
급살로 돌아가시다. (Geupsallo doragasida.) To pass away suddenly, without warning. — National Institute of Korean Language, Basic Korean Dictionary (krdict.korean.go.kr)
급살 (geupsal) is an old word for a death that strikes suddenly and without warning. You won’t hear it much in conversation these days, but if you meet it in an older person’s speech or in an old novel, just read it as “all of a sudden.”
See It in a Real Conversation
Setting: the ground-floor lobby of a funeral hall. Emily has finished paying her respects and runs into Jun-kyung, the chief mourner, who has stepped outside for some air. It’s past eleven at night.
Jun-kyung: 에밀리, 이 시간에 여기까지 와줘서 고마워. Emily, thank you for coming all the way here at this hour.
Emily: 무슨 소리야. 할머니 돌아가셨다는 얘기 듣고 바로 나왔지. What are you talking about? I left the moment I heard your grandmother passed away.
Jun-kyung: 어제 새벽에… 주무시다가 그냥 가셨어. 아프지도 않으셨고. Yesterday at dawn… she just went in her sleep. She wasn’t even in pain.
Emily: 나 아까 방명록 앞에서 한참 서 있었어. ‘죽었다’는 도저히 못 쓰겠더라고. I stood in front of the guest book for ages earlier. I just couldn’t bring myself to write “died.”
Jun-kyung: 잘했어. 그럴 땐 그냥 “돌아가신 할머님, 편히 쉬시길” 이렇게 쓰면 돼. You did well. In that case you just write, “May the late grandmother rest in peace.”
Emily: 아… 나 처음 한국 왔을 때 할머니가 김치 담가주셨는데. Ah… when I first came to Korea, your grandmother made kimchi for me.
This Sounds Off
✗ 우리 집 강아지가 어제 돌아가셨어요. (Uri jip gangajiga eoje doragasyeosseoyo.) ✓ 우리 집 강아지가 어제 죽었어요 (jugeosseoyo). / 무지개다리를 건넜어요 (mujigaedarireul geonneosseoyo). → 돌아가시다 (doragasida) is only for people — and only for people you’re meant to elevate. Use it for a pet and your listener will freeze for a second. If you want to convey how much the animal meant to you, there’s the euphemism 무지개다리를 건너다 (mujigaedarireul geonneoda), “to cross the rainbow bridge.”
✗ (News anchor) 사고 차량 운전자는 병원으로 옮겨졌으나 돌아가셨습니다. (Sago charyang unjeonjaneun byeongwoneuro omgyeojyeosseuna doragasyeotseumnida.) ✓ (News anchor) 사고 차량 운전자는 병원으로 옮겨졌으나 숨졌습니다 (sumjyeotseumnida). → Reporting strips out emotion and delivers facts. 돌아가시다 carries the speaker’s own mourning, so using it to announce publicly the death of someone whose name you don’t even know sounds strange instead. The news uses 숨지다 (sumjida) and 사망하다 (samanghada).
Example Sentences by Situation
1) To a coworker who has lost a family member (the most formal setting)
부친께서 돌아가셨다는 소식 들었습니다. 삼가 고인의 명복을 빕니다. (Buchinkkeseo doragasyeotdaneun sosik deureotseumnida. Samga goinui myeongbogeul bimnida.) I heard the news that your father passed away. My deepest condolences.
The phrase that follows, “삼가 고인의 명복을 빕니다,” is effectively the fixed expression of condolence in Korea. You can send it by text, or say it briefly at the wake. This one sentence is enough — and it’s better not to add anything more.
2) Matter-of-factly to a friend (casual speech, but the -시- stays)
우리 외할아버지 지난달에 돌아가셨어. 아흔둘이셨어. (Uri oeharabeoji jinandare doragasyeosseo. Aheundurisyeosseo.) My maternal grandfather passed away last month. He was ninety-two.
The casual ending -어 (-eo) is there, and yet the -시- in 돌아가시- is still alive. You’re speaking down to your friend, but not to your grandfather. If you can say this sentence naturally, half of Korean honorifics has already gotten into your body.
3) Bringing up something from long ago for the first time
저희 어머니는 제가 열 살 때 돌아가셨어요. 그래서 김치는 아버지한테 배웠어요. (Jeohui eomeonineun jega yeol sal ttae doragasyeosseoyo. Geuraeseo gimchineun abeojihante baewosseoyo.) My mother passed away when I was ten. So I learned to make kimchi from my father.
Koreans often don’t let a story like this hang heavy — they move straight on to the next sentence. And the listener answering briefly with something like “아, 그러셨구나 (a, geureosyeotguna)” — “oh, I see” — and then carrying the conversation forward is, in fact, the more considerate response.
Politeness Levels and Related Expressions
First thing to know — 돌아가시다 has no separate casual form. The honorific -시- is fixed; only the sentence ending moves up and down. 돌아가셨습니다 (doragasyeotseumnida) → 돌아가셨어요 (doragasyeosseoyo) → 돌아가셨어 (doragasyeosseo). All three elevate the deceased.
| Expression | Tone & weight | Where it’s used |
|---|---|---|
| 돌아가시다 (doragasida) | Respectful and careful; carries mourning | Elders and people you respect. Everything from everyday conversation to the funeral hall |
| 죽다 (jukda) | Blunt and neutral; no emotion | Animals and plants, objective description, self-deprecating jokes. Never for elders |
| 사망하다 (samanghada) | Dry and official | News, death certificates, insurance paperwork, legal documents |
| 세상을 떠나다 (sesangeul tteonada) | Soft and literary | Eulogies, essays, formal writing |
| 별세하다 (byeolsehada) | The most formal and weighty of all | Obituaries, official announcements. Almost never used in speech |
| 하늘나라에 가다 (haneullarae gada) | A soft, warm euphemism | Explaining to a child; used for pets too |
Cultural Background — The Idea of “Going Back”
Asking why this word, of all words, is built on 돌아가다 (doragada) opens up a layer of the Korean language. 돌아가다 originally means to go back to where you came from. You go back home, you go back to your hometown, things go back to where they belong. Expressing death with that verb means placing death not as an ending but as a return to where you originally were. Lay the honorific -시- on top of that, and the fixed expression you get is 돌아가시다.
Korean funeral customs are connected to the same sensibility. When word of a death goes around, people gather at the funeral hall, and mourners are usually received for three days. At the wake, you keep your words sparing. To the chief mourner, one line — “얼마나 상심이 크십니까 (eolmana sangsimi keusimnikka)”, “how great your grief must be” — or the “뭐라 드릴 말씀이 없습니다” we saw earlier is enough. The longer you stretch out a sentence trying to console someone, the further you actually drift from good manners. And the relationship continues after the funeral ends. At 설 (Seol, Lunar New Year) and 추석 (Chuseok), families visit the grave; on the anniversary of the death they hold a 제사 (jesa, memorial rite) or a memorial service. The person who has passed away isn’t struck off a list — they stay inside the calendar.
If you’re a K-drama fan, you’ve already heard this word hundreds of times. The setup where the protagonist’s parents died when they were young is practically a genre rule in Korean drama, and the backstory usually goes by in a single, understated line — something like “my parents passed away early, so I was raised by so-and-so.” Subtitles flatten it into “my parents died,” but the original line still holds, inside that tiny -시-, a respect that’s still standing. That single syllable is exactly what the subtitles can’t carry over.
Today’s Quiz
Which of the following sentences uses 돌아가시다 incorrectly?
- To a friend: “우리 할머니 작년에 돌아가셨어.” (Uri halmeoni jangnyeone doragasyeosseo. — “My grandmother passed away last year.”)
- To a colleague: “어머님께서 돌아가셨다니, 삼가 고인의 명복을 빕니다.” (Eomeonimkkeseo doragasyeotdani, samga goinui myeongbogeul bimnida. — “I’m so sorry to hear your mother passed away. My deepest condolences.”)
- To a vet: “저희 고양이가 어젯밤에 돌아가셨어요.” (Jeohui goyangiga eojetbame doragasyeosseoyo. — “Our cat passed away last night.”)
Answer: number 3. 돌아가시다 is for people you’re meant to elevate, so for a pet you say 죽었어요 (jugeosseoyo) or, more gently, 무지개다리를 건넜어요 (mujigaedarireul geonneosseoyo). Number 1 is a casual conversation, but the -시- elevating the deceased is fully intact, so it’s perfectly natural; number 2 is the standard sentence used word-for-word in condolences.
Definitions and example sentences are from the National Institute of Korean Language’s Basic Korean Dictionary (krdict.korean.go.kr); that portion of this post, including our translations, is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0 KR.