Eulogy structure

Most people who are stuck writing a eulogy are not short of memories. They are trying to fit those memories into a shape that does not suit them — usually a chronological summary, because that is what a eulogy is assumed to be.

Pick a structure first. The right one makes the writing feel like filling something in rather than inventing it.

Shape: Make one true statement about them, then spend the whole eulogy proving it with two or three specific memories.

Use it when: almost always. It is the default for good reason.

Why it works: it does not require you to cover a whole life, so the years you do not know about never show. It also gives you a test for every sentence: does this support the claim, or not?

Where it fails: if your claim is a generic virtue. “She was kind” produces a generic eulogy. “She went through the world expecting to be needed, and intended to be ready” produces a specific one.

Shape: childhood, working life, family, later years.

Use it when: you are the only speaker; the person lived a long time and the arc genuinely is the story; the room contains people who knew entirely different decades of their life and need joining up.

Why it can work: it gives the family a whole person rather than a slice, which some families badly want.

Where it fails: it gives every decade equal weight whether or not it earned it, and it slides easily into reciting an obituary. If you use it, allow one period to take half the time and move through the rest quickly.

Shape: follow a single repeated day — a Thursday, a Sunday lunch, the drive to work — from beginning to end, and let the person emerge from it.

Use it when: their life had a strong routine, or when you want a spine you cannot get lost in.

Why it works: the day carries the structure for you, so you only have to remember what happened next. It is also the easiest shape to deliver, because you always know where you are.

There is a worked example of this shape, annotated section by section, on sample eulogy.

Shape: address them as “you” throughout, rather than describing them to the room.

Use it when: you were very close — a sibling, a partner, a lifelong friend — and describing them in the third person feels false.

Why it works: it removes the pressure to sound like a public speaker, and it gives you permission to say things you would not say about someone.

Where it fails: it is the hardest structure to get through out loud, because direct address keeps the loss in front of you the whole time. Keep it short — two minutes is plenty — and know your last line by heart.

Shape: things they taught me. Things she always said. Rules of my father. Six or seven short items, then a close.

Use it when: there is no single defining scene but hundreds of small consistent ones; or when you are worried about holding it together, because a list lets you stop and restart at any item.

Why it works: the repetition builds rhythm, and rooms respond to rhythm. It is also the most forgiving structure to deliver in pieces.

Where it fails: if every item is abstract. Anchor at least half of them in a concrete thing — a pot warmed, a note taped inside a bread bin.

Shape: two or three memories gathered from other people, each credited by name, plus one short observation of your own.

Use it when: you did not know them well; you are speaking on behalf of a family or a workplace; or your own relationship with them is too complicated to put in front of a room.

Why it works: it is honest about your position, and it widens the portrait beyond one person’s view. Rooms find it moving to hear that a family has been talking to each other.

How to gather the material: ask narrow questions. “What did he do that drove you mad?” gets a usable answer. “What should I say about him?” gets “he was a lovely man,” which you cannot use.

• Not sure? Thematic. It suits most people and most occasions.
• Only speaker, long life? Chronological, weighted towards one period.
• Worried you will not get through it? A list, or one recurring day. Both let you stop and restart cleanly.
• Very close to them? A letter, kept short.
• Didn’t know them well? Speak for others.
• Complicated relationship? Thematic, narrowed to one true thing — see the worked example on eulogy examples.

Whichever you choose, the section-by-section word counts on eulogy outline will fit it with minor adjustment.

Eulogy templates gives you four fill-in templates, each shown blank and then completed. Eulogy outline is a working outline you fill in section by section, with a word count for each. How to write a eulogy walks through the whole thing in six steps, from a blank page to something you can say out loud. Our collection of eulogy examples has six complete eulogies in different voices and lengths.