March 4, 2026

How to Write a Eulogy. A Practical Guide with Real Examples

Writing a eulogy comes down to this: pick one or two moments that capture who they were, and build everything around those. You don't need to summarize their whole life. You don't need to be a writer. You just need to be someone who loved them and is willing to stand up and say so.

Where do I even start?

Start by sitting somewhere quiet and asking yourself one question: what was it like to be around this person? Not what they accomplished. Not the dates and milestones. What did it actually feel like to walk into a room where they were?

Write down whatever comes to mind. It might be the smell of their kitchen. The sound of their laugh. A phrase they said every single day. The way they always had a tissue in their sleeve or a biscuit in their pocket.

Here is an example. Instead of writing "Dad was a kind and generous man," you might write:

"Every Saturday morning, without fail, Dad made enough scrambled eggs to feed the whole street. Nobody asked him to. He just believed that a good day starts with a full plate and someone to share it with."

That one moment tells us more about who he was than a list of qualities ever could.

How do I choose what to include?

You can't include everything, and you shouldn't try. From our experience helping families, the best eulogies focus on two or three stories and let those do the heavy lifting.

Ask yourself:

What is the one story the family always tells about them?
What would they want people to remember?
What habit or quirk of theirs made everyone smile?
What did they teach you (even if they didn't know they were teaching)?

For example, say your mum was a primary school teacher who baked constantly. You don't need to mention every job she held and every place she lived. Instead, you might focus on her teaching and her baking, and find the thread that connects them:

"Mum treated every person she met like a student on their first day. She made you feel like you belonged, even if you'd only just walked through the door. And there was always cake. Always. As if to say: sit down, stay a while, you're welcome here."

That captures more of who she was than a ten-minute biography.

How should I open a eulogy?

Open with a specific memory, image, or moment. Not with your name, not with a thank-you, and not with a dictionary definition. The first thirty seconds set the tone for everything that follows.

Here are three examples of strong openings:

A sensory detail: "If you visited Grandma's house, you knew you were there before you even opened the door. The smell of lavender and something baking. Always something baking."

A habit or quirk: "Dad had a rule. Every Sunday, no matter the weather, we walked to the newsagent. He bought the paper, I got a chocolate bar, and we walked home the long way. He never explained why. He didn't need to."

A contradiction: "Mum was the most patient person you'd ever meet. Unless you were in front of her in traffic. Then all bets were off."

Notice that none of these start with "My name is..." or "Thank you all for being here." Those can come later, woven in naturally. The opening should pull people in.

What goes in the middle?

The middle is where you share the stories you've chosen. One thing we've learned over the years: paint scenes, don't list qualities. Instead of telling people your father was hardworking, show them what his hard work looked like.

Compare these two approaches:

Telling: "John was hardworking, dedicated, and always put his family first."

Showing: "John left for work at six every morning and didn't get home until seven. But he never once missed a school play. He'd show up in his work boots, still covered in dust, standing at the back of the hall with his phone out, filming every second. I don't think he ever actually watched those videos back. It was the being there that mattered to him."

The second version says the same thing, but it puts you in the room. It lets the listener see John rather than just hear about him.

Use their actual words when you can. If your grandmother had a phrase she said all the time, put it in. If your dad had a particular way of answering the phone or saying goodbye, include it. These small, specific details are what make people in the room nod and smile.

For example:

"Nan ended every phone call the same way. 'Right then, love. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.' Which, knowing Nan, left quite a lot of room."

If the person had a passion or hobby, bring it to life:

"Tom didn't just like fishing. He studied it. He could tell you which fly to use based on the weather, the time of year, and (he claimed) what the fish had for breakfast."

How do I end a eulogy?

The ending should be short, warm, and leave people with one clear feeling. Don't introduce new stories at the end. Instead, bring it back to something you mentioned earlier, or offer a simple, honest goodbye.

Some examples:

A return to the opening: "I still walk the long way home sometimes. I don't buy the paper. But I think of him every time."

A direct goodbye: "I'm going to miss your laugh, Mum. I'm going to miss your cake. Most of all, I'm going to miss the way you made everyone feel like they were the most important person in the room. Because to you, they probably were."

A simple truth: "He didn't need the world to know his name. He just needed his family around the table on a Sunday. And we were always there."

One thing to remember: you don't need a grand, poetic finish. A quiet ending often lands harder than a dramatic one.

How long should a eulogy be?

Most eulogies should be 500 to 800 words, which takes about four to seven minutes to read aloud. That's long enough to say something meaningful, short enough to hold people's attention.

Print it in 14-point font. Your hands will be shaking and your eyes might blur with tears. Large print makes it easier to find your place if you need to pause.

People almost always write too much on the first draft. That's fine. Write everything down, then cut it back. If a sentence doesn't add something new, let it go.

What if I cry while reading it?

You probably will. And that's completely fine. Everyone in that room understands. Nobody is judging you.

If it happens, pause. Take a breath. Take a sip of water if you have one. Then continue. The audience will wait. They will wait as long as you need.

One practical tip: read the eulogy aloud at least twice before the day. The parts that make you cry on the first read will be easier the second and third time.

If you're worried about getting through it, ask someone you trust to sit in the front row. If you can't continue, they can step up and finish for you. Just knowing that person is there can make all the difference.

What should I avoid?

Avoid trying to summarize their entire life. A eulogy is not an obituary. The obituary lists the dates and the facts. The eulogy captures the feeling of knowing them.

Avoid generic phrases. "They would give you the shirt off their back" and "they lit up every room" don't land anymore. Replace them with a specific example of how they actually were generous, or what it actually felt like when they walked in.

Avoid anything that would embarrass someone in the room. A eulogy is not the place for secrets, grudges, or stories that only make sense after three drinks. Humour is welcome, but it should be warm, not sharp.

Avoid apologising for your eulogy. Don't open with "I'm not very good at this" or "I didn't know what to say." You're there because someone asked you, or because you chose to stand up. That's enough.

If you find yourself staring at a blank page and the words aren't coming, that's not a sign you're failing. It's a sign you're grieving. And grief makes everything harder. If you'd rather share your memories and have your eulogy shaped for you, that's a perfectly good option too.

FAQ

How do I write a eulogy for someone I didn't know very well?

Focus on what you did know. Even one or two interactions can be the foundation of a meaningful eulogy. Ask other family members for a story or two, and be honest about your perspective. "I didn't know Margaret as long as many of you, but in the time I did know her..." is a perfectly strong opening.

Can I use humour in a eulogy?

Yes, if it's warm and loving. The best funeral humour comes from real moments that everyone recognises. If your dad was famously terrible at directions or your mum always burned the toast, those are fair game. The test: would the person you're honouring laugh at this? If yes, include it.

Should I memorise the eulogy or read it?

Read it. Even professional speakers use notes at funerals. The emotional weight of the day makes it nearly impossible to remember what comes next. Print it clearly, in large font, and hold it in front of you. Nobody will think less of you for reading.

How do I write a eulogy for a parent?

Start with one specific memory of them being exactly who they were. Not the big milestones, but the small, everyday moments. How they made your packed lunch. What they said when they tucked you in. The face they made when they were pretending not to be proud. Those details are what make people in the room feel like your parent is in the room too.

What if I'm too emotional to deliver it?

Prepare a backup reader. Ask someone you trust to be ready to step in if you need them. Read the eulogy aloud several times beforehand so the hardest parts become familiar. And remember: pausing to collect yourself is not a failure. It's love.

Written by Karel, founder of EulogyCraft and Gentle Tributes. Karel has helped families find the right words for over ten years.

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