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.
Start With One Memory
Forget structure for a minute. Don't open a template or google "eulogy examples" and try to sound like someone else. Just sit quietly and think about your loved one.
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 always 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)
For some reason, there feels like 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 story telling. But if it wasn't, or if you're simply not in the mood to be funny right now, that's completely fine. A eulogy can be tender, or plain-spoken, or full of gratitude. It needs to be whateverr feels honest.
The only thing it shouldn't be is performative. Don't try to 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.
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 their head.
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 with them. What did they teach you? How did they make you feel? What will you carry with you even in their passing?
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 adds warmth to have more than one voice in the room, even if yours is the only one speaking. It also gives you the opportunity to learn something new and beautiful about your loved one.
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. This 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.
How Long Should It Be?
Shorter than you think. Five to seven minutes is a comfortable length, which works out to roughly 700 to 1,000 words. Most people worry about running too long, but in practice, nerves speed everything up, if anything, you'll finish sooner than expected.
Read it out loud while you're writing. Time yourself. If it runs over eight minutes, look for the parts that feel like filler and let them go. A eulogy is heard more in the meaningful moments rather than looking to write to a time frame.
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: you probably will at some point need to take a steadying breath, at least for a moment. And nobody in that room will think less of you for it. They'll love you for it.
But if the idea of 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 priest and let them read it on your behalf. These are still your words and your love still fills the room, you don't have to perform grief to prove it's real.
It Doesn't Have to Be Perfect
The best eulogies I've heard weren't the most eloquent or best written ones. 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.
You're welcome to reach out through the Get in Touch page whenever you're ready. There's no rush, and no pressure.
