Writing the best eulogy ever- a step by step guide
Hi,
You clicked on this because you are writing a eulogy maybe. What’s the matter? You can’t sum up someone’s entire life and love in 3 minutes? Finding it hard to write a full sentence in the throws of physically exhausting grief? Does everything you write seem trite and stupid and not ENOUGH? Ok, then you are on the right track.
After the church ceremony for Mom, we went to have breakfast and I gave a bit of a talk to everyone there- mostly to say thank you to those that loved us through her illness. I wrote and rewrote this and then delivered it while crying through the entire thing. And I still rewrite it in my head now as grief changes. I thought that the funeral and this little talk would help me close this chapter of my life. Hahahahahahha! I’ve been writing a blog about grief for years and yet still thought that one day could just button things up and I would be all set on the “grief” stage of my life. Silly Patti. So before I tell you how completely wrong I was about being “done” with grief, let’s help you get your eulogy on paper.
Practical things to know when writing a eulogy:
You should actually write it down. It’s often the person closest to the person that died that is speaking. So don’t count on your emotions to simmer to a low boil so you can freestyle a cohesive speech on the spot. You won’t be able to, and if you get upset to the point where you can’t talk, no one else can read it for you because you didn’t write it down.
Start with a quick outline. If you need to include other people, show them this brief outline and make sure there are no really big points they want included. Don’t sit down and try to write this word for word with someone else. You are too tired for the level of creativity and thick skin needed for a joint editing process.
Get quiet. You don’t need the input of a lot of people to write this. Get a notebook and a pen and go write for 10 minutes straight. If you can’t see the page through tears, have a friend do the writing and you do the talking. Or dictate it into the computer.
You don’t have to list everyone that person ever loved and thank them. You aren’t writing thank you cards. That’s later (or not, in our case).
Give specific examples or stories about the person. It helps everyone feel connected to them in the ways that you loved them.
Ask the community in front of you for what you want. Do you want them to sing loudly at the service? Do you want them to think of the person you love at St. Patrick’s Day? Do you want them to do something kind in honor of the person? Mine would have been to thank the quiet people in your life- those that are making things happen, hoping for them and praying for you without a huge fuss.
You don’t need to be anything other than a wonderful, grieving human speaking about someone they loved. It doesn’t matter if your Uncle Carl is really funny and would have told great jokes if he was doing the eulogy. It doesn’t matter if you just stand there and cry and just are a reminder that this person was loved and them dying is really sad. You were called to give this talk and you are worthy of being there and sharing your love.
You will never sum up a life on paper. It is one of the great failings of words. We can not do this life justice, or properly thank them, or show their love to others. This is why this task is so daunting. Because you want this 3 minute speech to do that and it can’t. Here is the magical thing about a service/funeral/repass though- everyone there had a piece of the person you loved. They loved them too- not the way you did, but they loved them. They loved getting coffee with them at work, or playing outside together or sitting and watching TV shows together. So you don’t have to sum them up, because each person there already has a part of them and brought that to the service.
You did great.
I’m so sorry you are writing a eulogy. That’s a terrible thing to write.
Know that, as you do your best to write this, you may sit back a year and a half later and still think of things to add. Here is what I want to add that I missed:
Mom loved hard. She loved so much that was in tune with me even when I didn’t want her to be. She knew me in a way that was annoying as a teen.
She got looked over sometimes- in a house of loud, charismatic men and a loud, funny and needy middle child (It’s me!!!! ME!!!).
I didn’t get to tell her all that saw. Because I couldn’t see it clearly until I was raising children.
She prayed everyday. If you were loved by Mom, she prayed for you. You might think, “oh, that’s nice”. But a real person dragged her very tired self out of bed on freezing Connecticut mornings to come sit in a chair and pray for you. She sacrificed sleep that she desperately needed as a principal of a large school and a parent to 3 children, to pray for others.
She made everything happen. She made magic in that house. I never got to see her be a grandparent, not really. I think she would have made magic for these kids.
I write because my Mom told me I was good at it. And even as I look back and wish I had worded my talk differently, I know she would have been proud.
