How to write and deliver a eulogy

Writing a eulogy is one of the most meaningful things you can do for someone you've lost, and also one of the most daunting. This guide is for anyone who has been asked to give a eulogy, or who wants to write one for themselves or a family member, and isn't sure where to begin. By the end, you'll have a clear structure to follow, practical ways to gather material, and specific tips for getting through the delivery on the day.

Step 1: Decide who is writing the eulogy

Before a single word goes on paper, agree with the family who is leading the writing. Funerals regularly end up with two or three people drafting separate eulogies in parallel, which creates duplication, stress, and occasionally awkward repetition at the service itself.

One person should own the final text. That doesn't mean writing it alone. Others can contribute memories, anecdotes, even whole paragraphs. But somebody needs to weave it all together and make final decisions about what stays and what goes.

If more than one person genuinely wants to speak, most celebrants and funeral directors are happy to accommodate two eulogies, or a main eulogy followed by a short tribute from a second speaker. Ask early, because timing at a service is fixed and the funeral director needs to know.

Step 2: Gather memories from family and friends

The best eulogies are built on specific detail, not general praise. "She was kind" tells us almost nothing. "She once drove four hours in a snowstorm to bring her neighbour's dog home" tells us everything.

Send a short message to people who knew the person well. A handful of targeted questions works far better than "send me your memories", which tends to produce either silence or an overwhelming flood of unstructured text.

Useful questions to ask:

• What's a specific moment with [name] that you still think about?
• What did they love most, or talk about most?
• What's something they did that surprised you, or made you laugh?
• What do you most want people to know about them?

Give people a week to reply, and chase once. You will not hear from everyone, and that's fine. Even four or five detailed responses will give you more material than you need.

Step 3: Choose a structure

A eulogy doesn't need to be a biography recited in strict date order. In practice, the structure that tends to work is simple: introduce, tell the story, close with comfort.

The opening (roughly one minute). Don't start with "We are gathered here today." Begin with something that immediately summons the person: a characteristic phrase they used, a physical detail, or a short story. The congregation is nervous and grieving; give them something human to hold onto in the first thirty seconds.

The middle (four to five minutes). This is where you bring the person to life. Move through their story in a way that makes sense, but you don't have to be chronological. Group by theme if that feels more natural: their work, their family, the things they loved. Aim for two or three specific stories or moments rather than a long list of facts and dates.

The close (one minute). End with something that offers the people in the room something to carry home. That might be a favourite line of theirs, a quality they'd want others to cultivate, or a simple and direct farewell. Resist the temptation to trail off. A clean, deliberate ending is kinder to the mourners than a sentence that fades into tears.

Step 4: Write a first draft

Sit down and write the whole thing from beginning to end without stopping to edit. Don't worry about getting it right. The job at this stage is to get words on the page, not to produce the finished article.

Write as if you're speaking to a room of people who loved the person you're describing, some of whom knew them well and some of whom didn't. That means being specific enough to bring them to life for strangers, without being so niche that only the inner circle follows along.

Use the first person where it's natural. "I first met Dad when I was about six" is warmer than "He became a father in 1972."

Then put the draft away for at least a day. Grief and deadline pressure both distort judgement. A night's distance will show you what's working and what isn't.

Step 5: Edit for length and tone

A good eulogy, delivered at a natural speaking pace, runs to about six or seven minutes. That is roughly 900 to 1,100 words on paper.

Read your draft aloud and time it. Most first drafts are too long. Cut anything that is covering the same ground twice, and cut any passage that sounds like an obituary in a local newspaper rather than a person speaking.

Check the tone. A eulogy can be funny as well as sad, and in my experience, gentle humour is often a relief to mourners, not a disrespect. But the humour should come from the person themselves, from who they were. If a joke doesn't illuminate something true about them, it doesn't belong.

Ask one other person to read the finished draft. They should be looking for anything that is confusing, any name or reference that needs explanation, and any moment where the tone suddenly shifts without reason.

Step 6: Practise delivering it

Reading a eulogy aloud to yourself in a quiet room, four times at minimum, is not excessive. It is the single most useful thing you can do to prepare.

You are listening for sentences that are too long to say without running out of breath, for words that are hard to say when your throat is tight with grief, and for places where you naturally want to pause. Mark those pauses on the page.

Practise to another person if at all possible. A friend, a partner, a sibling. Ask them to sit across the room from you so you have to project slightly, because the acoustics at a funeral will be different from your kitchen. Ask them to tell you honestly where they lost the thread, or where you were speaking too fast.

Reading it into your phone and playing it back is a reasonable alternative if no one is available. You'll hear things that reading silently entirely misses.

Step 7: Prepare for the day itself

Print the eulogy in a font size you can read easily when your eyes are blurring slightly. Fourteen point is not too large. Bold any words or lines you want to be sure to emphasise.

Bring two printed copies. Leave one with a family member or the funeral director. If something happens to the copy you're holding, you want a backup within reach.

When you reach the lectern, take a breath before you begin. Look up at the room once, even briefly, before your eyes go to the page. It grounds you and it tells the congregation that you're present with them.

If you are mid-sentence and emotion overtakes you, the best technique is simply to stop, look down at the page, breathe, and continue. The silence will feel much longer to you than it does to anyone listening. The congregation is rooting for you. They know what this costs, and they want you to get through it.

If you genuinely don't trust yourself to finish, arrange in advance for someone to be sitting close by who can take over. Tell the celebrant this is the plan so they can step in gracefully if needed. There is no shame in it. Asking for that backup is not giving up; it's making sure the person you loved is honoured properly.