How to Write a Eulogy: A Step-by-Step Guide With Examples

Most eulogies last three to five minutes, or 400 to 650 words when spoken at an unhurried pace. Collect a handful of specific memories, pick one idea that ties them together, and shape them into a brief opening, two or three stories, what the person meant and a short goodbye. Start with the stories you'd tell a friend over dinner tonight, and polish later.

How to write a eulogy, step by step

1. Get the practical details first

Ask the family or officiant how long you have, who else is speaking and what kind of service it is. Some religious services limit eulogies. Many Catholic parishes, for example, allow only brief words of remembrance, or suggest the vigil or reception instead. If a sibling is also speaking, agree on who tells which stories.

2. Gather memories, and ask the family

Memory works better with something to look at, so scroll back through your texts with them or open a box of photos, and write down whatever surfaces. Then text a few relatives one specific question each, because "any memories?" tends to get "he was a great guy."

• "What story about him always makes you laugh?"
• "What did she teach you, on purpose or by accident?"
• "What would he want people to know that most of them don't?"

Older relatives hold the stories from before you knew the person, like Aunt Fatima's in the example below.

3. Choose one theme

Find what most of your memories have in common and say it in one plain sentence, such as "She made room for everyone" or "He let you finish." Stories that don't fit can wait for the reception.

4. Build the structure

1. Opening (about 30 seconds). Your name, how you knew them, and one line that sets the tone.
2. A short sketch (about 45 seconds). Where they came from, who they loved, what they did for work. Check names and dates with a relative.
3. Two or three stories (about 2 minutes). Most of your time goes here. Give each one a specific place and moment, so the theme shows without being announced.
4. What it adds up to (about 45 seconds). The thread running through the stories, and what you'll keep doing because of them.
5. Goodbye (about 20 seconds). Address them by name, echo a line from a story, and sit down.

5. Get the length right

Write long, then cut any story that makes the same point as another. Time yourself reading aloud, since speaking is slower than reading and pauses add up.

6. Set the tone, and use humor gently

A quiet man deserves a quieter speech, and a woman who ran every party can have one that gets laughs. Humor works when it's affectionate and they would have laughed at the story too. If you wouldn't tell it with their spouse in the front row, cut it. Put a lighter moment early and keep the ending sincere.

7. Write while you're grieving

Grief scatters concentration, so write in twenty-minute stretches and let the first draft be rough. If typing feels impossible, record yourself telling the stories, or talk while someone takes notes. If you can't imagine reading it aloud, a relative or the officiant can read it for you. When the page won't move, you can turn your jotted-down memories into a rough first draft and rework it in your own words.

A complete example eulogy for a father-in-law

Good morning. I'm Graham, and I'm married to Manny's daughter, Teresa. The first time I met Manny, he shook my hand, studied my hair for a long moment and said, "Who did this to you?"

Manuel Ferreira grew up here in Fall River, the son of a mill worker and a seamstress, and he cut hair in the same two-chair shop for forty-four years. He married Celeste in 1971 and raised Teresa and her brother, Rui, in a triple-decker on Dover Street. By his own count he cut the hair of half the men in this room and three mayors, and he voted for one of them.

That first afternoon, he sat me on a kitchen chair on the back porch and cut my hair while he asked every question a father wants to ask. Where I worked. What my parents did. What my intentions were. He asked that last one with the scissors right next to my ear. I answered very carefully.

Somewhere along the way I figured out he wasn't interrogating me. He was listening, which was his real trade. "Anybody can learn to cut hair," he told me once. "The hard part is letting people finish."

This week Teresa's Aunt Fatima told me that when Manny was twelve, he practiced on his two little brothers in the cellar with their mother's sewing scissors. Their father came home to what Fatima calls "two very brave haircuts," and Manny's punishment was to fix both before Sunday Mass. He did. Fatima says that was the day the business started.

I saw what Manny did best the spring I lost my job. I hadn't told anyone, not even Teresa. I stopped by the shop just before closing. He took one look at me, flipped the sign to CLOSED and pointed at the chair. He gave me the slowest haircut of my life. I talked for forty minutes, and he didn't say a word. When he was done, he turned me to the mirror and said, "There. Now you look like a man who's going to be fine. Go home and tell your wife." I did. He was right on both counts.

I know I'm not the only one. Somebody here sat in that chair the week their marriage ended, or the week their son shipped out. Manny never repeated a word of it.

Every haircut ended the same way. He'd hold the hand mirror up behind your head and ask, "What do you think?"

So, Manny, look at this room. Look at everyone who came. What do you think? I think you did good work. Thank you for letting all of us finish.

One idea carries the speech. "Letting people finish" starts as a barber's trade secret and becomes the way Manny loved people. The porch haircut gets an early laugh that stays on Manny's side, Fatima's cellar story shows what one text to a relative can add, and the goodbye borrows a question half the room heard from his chair.

When the stories are there but the thread isn't, you can have them shaped into a draft eulogy and rewrite it line by line in your own voice.

A shorter example for a friend

This one suits a relaxed celebration of life and runs about a minute and a half.

Hi, everyone. I'm Lucia. Joanne and I met twenty-two years ago in the worst pottery class in Albuquerque. I made an ashtray by accident. She made a bowl that couldn't hold soup. We laughed so hard the teacher asked us to leave, so we went next door for green chile cheeseburgers, and that became our Tuesday night for the next two decades.

Joanne never asked, "What's wrong?" She asked, "Where are you?" and then she was in her car. When my mother died, she sat on my kitchen floor with me for a whole afternoon and didn't try to fix anything. She just stayed.

She was also the only person I know who could get lost using GPS, and she considered it a talent. Half of you have been on one of her shortcuts. You know.

Joanne, I don't know what Tuesdays look like now. I think I'll keep going to that burger place, order yours too, and steal your fries the way you always stole mine. Thank you for twenty-two years of showing up. See you later, friend.

Opening and closing lines you can adapt

Openings

• "[Name] was my uncle, and on a few bad nights in high school, my ride home. He never told my parents."
• "Some of you knew [Name] for fifty years. I knew him for [number], and he changed my life in the first week."
• "I married into this family [number] years ago, and [Name] is the reason I never felt like an outsider."
• "The last thing [Name] said to me was '[their words].' So I'll start there."

Closings

• "I don't get the last word, [Name]. You always did. So, thank you."
• "If you want to do something for [Name] this week, [their small habit]. That's the whole assignment."
• "Thank you for letting me into your family, [Name]. I'll look after them."
• "[Name], you always [habit]. Today we'll do it for you."

Common mistakes

• Telling instead of showing. "He was generous" is forgotten by the parking lot. A barber flipping his sign to CLOSED is not.
• Inside jokes. If a story needs three sentences of backstory, save it for the reception.
• Apologizing first. Skip "I'm not good at this." Nobody is grading you.
• Unfinished business. Leave out old family fights and the details of the illness.
• Humor at their expense. Their hopeless sense of direction is fair game. Their drinking is not.

Delivery tips

Before the day

• Read it aloud standing up, at least four times. Time the last run.
• Say it to one person first. Read it to a friend, even over the phone. The lines that catch in your throat catch less after that.
• Print two copies in large type. Reading from the page is expected. Keep one, and give the other to someone in the front row who can finish for you if you nod.

On the day

• Arrive early. Ask the officiant when you'll be called, and check the microphone and where to set your pages and water.
• Slow down. Nerves make people rush. Look up when it feels right, and let laughter or silence settle.
• If you cry, let it happen. Take one slow breath and pick up where you left off.
• Offer the family a copy. Many will want one later.

FAQ

How long should a eulogy be?

Plan on three to five minutes for most services, which is 400 to 650 words at a calm pace. If others are speaking too, or the officiant sets a limit, aim for the short end.

What's the difference between a eulogy and an obituary?

An obituary is a written notice, usually published online or in a newspaper, covering the facts, such as dates and service times. A eulogy is spoken at the service and is about who the person was, so let it sound like you talking.

How do I start writing when my mind is blank?

Write the stories first and the opening last. Ask two or three relatives for one story each, and a theme usually appears once you have eight or ten memories on paper.

What if I'm writing for a grandparent, or someone I didn't know well?

Be honest about how you knew them, and borrow stories from people who were closer, crediting them by name. For grandparents, the grandparent eulogy guide has memory prompts and a full example. When you're ready, you can start a eulogy draft from the stories you've gathered.