How to write a eulogy

Writing a eulogy is one of the hardest things anyone gets asked to do, and it usually lands on you at the worst possible time. The reassuring part is that a eulogy does not need to be a perfect speech. It needs to sound like you, and it needs to be true. Here is how to build one from what you already remember.

Start with what you remember, not a blank page

Do not sit down and try to write a speech. Sit down and make a list. Write down the small things: the way they answered the phone, the meal they always cooked, the phrase they overused, the time they drove through the night to help you. Specific, ordinary memories are the whole of a good eulogy. A pile of grand adjectives is not.

A shape that carries you through

Most eulogies that land follow a simple order. You do not have to hit every part, but this keeps you from wandering:

Who they were, and who you are to them, said plainly in the first line or two.
What they were like, carried by one or two real stories rather than a list of virtues.
What mattered to them: the people, the work, the small daily things.
A direct goodbye, or a line about how you will remember them.

Write it to be spoken, not read

A eulogy is heard once, by people who are upset, from someone who is also upset. Short sentences help. Plain words help. Read every draft out loud, and cut anything you stumble over or cannot say without losing your voice. If a sentence is hard to speak, it is the wrong sentence, however good it looks written down.

Only say what is true

It is tempting to smooth someone into a saint, or to reach for a line you have heard at other funerals. Resist both. The details that are genuinely true are what make people nod and cry. If you need a fact you are not sure of, a date or the spelling of a name, leave a gap and check it later rather than guessing on the day.

Example opening

For those who do not know me, I'm Margaret's daughter, Anne. My mum taught in the same Bristol primary school for thirty years. She could not walk through town without three former pupils saying hello, and she remembered every one of their names. People keep telling me she was kind. She was. But what I want you to know is the ordinary shape of it: the extra place always set at Sunday dinner, and the birthday card that somehow arrived a day early, every single year.

Common mistakes

Trying to cover their whole life. Pick a few true moments and let those stand for the rest.
Reaching for cliches like “in a better place” or “lost their battle”. They feel hollow because everyone has heard them.
Writing for the page instead of the ear. If you cannot say it out loud, change it.
Inventing a detail to fill a gap. A short, honest eulogy beats a longer one with a story that did not happen.