How to Write a Eulogy When You Don't Know Where to Start

If someone has asked you to speak at a funeral and your first thought was "I can't do this," you're not alone. That reaction doesn't mean you're the wrong person or that you don't care. It usually means you loved them so much that the idea of summing them up in a few minutes feels impossible.

And it is impossible, actually. You can't capture a whole person in a single speech, but you don't have to. You just have to find the truest things and say them out loud.

A eulogy is usually five to seven minutes long, which is about 700 to 1,000 words. Open with one small true story, say who they were to you, add a memory from someone else, and end with something you'd say to them rather than about them.

Here's how to find those words.

Start with one memory

Forget structure for a minute. Don't open a template and try to sound like someone else. Just sit quietly and think about your person.

What's the first thing that comes to mind? Not the big life events. The small, specific, utterly them thing. The way they answered the phone. The terrible joke they told at every single gathering. How they reversed into a parking spot like it was a competitive sport, or the face they made when they thought no one was watching.

That's your opening. Start there.

People don't remember eulogies because they were polished. They remember them because someone said something that made the whole room think, "Yes. That was exactly them."

You don't have to be funny, but you can be

There's a quiet pressure to make people laugh during a eulogy, as if lightness is the only way to get through it. If humour was part of who they were, let it in through your storytelling. But if it wasn't, or if you're simply not in the mood to be funny right now, that's completely fine too.

A eulogy can be tender, or plain-spoken, or full of gratitude. It needs to be whatever feels honest.

The only thing it shouldn't be is performative. Don't deliver a speech you think people want to hear. Say what's real for you, in your own words. That's the truest way to honour someone you love.

A simple shape to follow

If you're staring at a blank page and need somewhere to begin, try this loose structure. It's not a formula, just a handrail.

1. Open with a small, true story. Something that shows who they were without you having to explain it. A moment, a habit, a thing they always said, the thing that has everyone quietly nodding.

2. Share who they were to you. Not their career or a list of achievements, unless those achievements genuinely mattered to them. Talk about your relationship. What did they teach you? How did they make you feel? What will you carry?

3. Mention what others loved about them. Ask family or friends for a memory or two before you write. You'll almost always hear something you didn't know, and it puts more than one voice in the room even though yours is the only one speaking.

4. End with something you want to say to them, not about them. A thank you, or a promise. A line that closes the conversation gently.

That last one is usually the part that makes people cry, including you, and that's okay. Tears at a funeral aren't a failure. They're the proof that the love was real.

A eulogy example

Here's what that shape looks like in practice. This is an opening, not a whole speech, and it's deliberately ordinary. Read it for the shape, then throw the words away and use your own.

Dad measured everything twice. Timber, flour, the amount of petrol left in the mower. He once took a shelf back to Bunnings because it was four millimetres narrower than the label said, and he explained to the bloke at the counter exactly how he knew.

That was Dad. Nothing was near enough. If he was doing something for you, it was going to be right.

He taught me to drive in the paddock behind the house, in a Falcon with a sticky clutch, and he never once raised his voice at me. I stalled it about forty times. He just said "again", and we went again.

My sister told me last week that after every lesson he'd come inside and tell Mum I was a natural. He never said it to me once.

Dad, thank you for the patience. I'm still measuring twice.

It isn't eloquent, and it doesn't try to be. It has one specific detail, one story, one thing someone else remembered, and one line said directly to him. That's the whole job.

How long should a eulogy be?

Five to seven minutes, which works out to roughly 700 to 1,000 words. Most people worry about running long, but nerves speed everything up, and if anything you'll finish sooner than you expect.

Read it out loud while you're writing, and time yourself. If it runs past eight minutes, look for the parts that feel like filler and let them go.

A eulogy that says less but means it will always land better than one that tries to cover everything.

What if you can't get through it?

This is the one that gets most people. Not "what do I say?" but "what if I break down halfway through?"

Here's the truth: at some point you probably will need to take a steadying breath. Nobody in that room will think less of you for it. They'll love you for it.

But if reading it aloud feels like too much, you have options. Ask someone to stand beside you and take over if you need a pause. Or give your written eulogy to the celebrant or minister and let them read it for you. These are still your words, and your love still fills the room. You don't have to perform grief to prove it's real.

FAQs: Writing a Eulogy

• Q: How long should a eulogy be?

  A: Five to seven minutes, or about 700 to 1,000 words. Read it aloud and time it while you write. Nerves make most people speed up on the day, so a eulogy that runs seven minutes at the kitchen table often lands closer to five or six.

• Q: Should I use a eulogy template?

  A: Use a shape, not a script. A loose structure helps when you're staring at a blank page, but a filled-in template tends to sound like everyone else's. The specific details only you know are the parts people will remember.

• Q: Who usually gives the eulogy?

  A: Most often a child, sibling, partner or close friend, and sometimes more than one person sharing shorter tributes. There's no rule. If the closest person can't face speaking, the celebrant can read their words instead, and it's still theirs.

• Q: How do I start a eulogy?

  A: Start with one small, specific memory rather than a formal introduction. A habit, a saying, a moment that shows who they were. It tells the room who you're talking about far faster than "we are here today to remember" ever will.

• Q: Can I write a eulogy in a day?

  A: Yes, and most people do. Give yourself an hour to write badly without stopping, then leave it and come back to cut. The first draft only needs to get the memories out of your head and onto the page.

It doesn't have to be perfect

The best eulogies I've heard weren't the most eloquent. They were the ones where someone stood up, shaking, and told a story that made the whole room see the person they'd lost one more time. That's all a eulogy really is. A moment of seeing them again, together.

If you're writing one right now, I hope this helped, even a little. And if you'd like the words you've written to be part of something beautiful they can hold onto, I'd love to help you create an order of service booklet that honours everything you want to say — see how I can help.

You're welcome to reach out whenever you're ready. There's no rush, and no pressure.