How to write a eulogy: a gentle guide, examples, and a template

Eulogy for a best friend

My name is Sam, and Jason Miller was my best friend for twenty-two years.

We met in the ninth grade, in the back row of a chemistry class neither of us was good at. Jason leaned over on the first day and whispered, "I think we're supposed to be taking notes." Neither of us was. We spent the rest of the year as lab partners, and somewhere in there, between a small fire and a lot of laughing, he became my brother.

Jason was the kind of person who noticed things. He noticed when you'd gone quiet. He noticed when you needed a ride, or a meal, or just someone to sit in the truck with you and not talk. When my dad was sick, Jason drove me to the hospital every Saturday for three months. He never once made it feel like a favor.

He loved the Mariners, even when it hurt. He loved terrible movies and would defend them with a straight face. He loved his daughters, Emma and Grace, more than anything in this world, and he'd tell you so, unprompted, in line at the grocery store.

I keep thinking about that first day in chemistry. Jason didn't know me. He could have kept to himself. Instead, he leaned over and made sure I wasn't alone. That's what he did for the rest of his life, for so many of us in this room.

Jason, thank you for leaning over. We'll take the notes from here.

A sample we wrote by hand. The people in it are made up. Yours is written from your own stories.

Eulogy for a grandfather

Good morning. I'm Megan, and Walter was my grandpa.

Grandpa Walt worked for the railroad for thirty-four years, and he could tell you the schedule of every train that ever passed through this town. When we were little, he'd take us down to the crossing on Sunday afternoons, check his watch, and say, "Any minute now." And then, like magic, a train would come. We were sure he had arranged it.

He married my grandmother, June, when they were twenty, and he held her hand in every photo I've ever seen of them, including the ones where they were obviously arguing.

Grandpa believed in fixing things instead of replacing them: toasters, fences, bicycles, and people's bad days. He'd hand you a screwdriver and say, "Let's see what's wrong with it." Usually by the time you'd found the problem, you felt better.

He taught me to drive in his old Buick, to shake hands like I meant it, and to always leave a place better than I found it.

Grandpa, the trains still come through on Sunday afternoons. Every time I hear one, I'll check my watch and think of you. Any minute now.

A sample we wrote by hand. The people in it are made up. Yours is written from your own stories.

Short eulogy for a neighbor

I'm Laura, and Ruth was my neighbor for nineteen years.

Ruth was the first person to knock on our door when we moved in, with a loaf of banana bread and the name of a good plumber. Over the years she watched our kids, watered our plants, and taught me how to keep tomatoes alive through a Washington summer.

She never made a fuss. She just showed up. Ruth, thank you for every loaf of banana bread, and for showing all of us what a good neighbor looks like.

A sample we wrote by hand. The people in it are made up. Yours is written from your own stories.

Celebration of life eulogy with gentle humor

Hi, everyone. I'm Kevin, Donna's son-in-law. Donna told us more than once that she wanted today to be "a party, not a funeral," and she was not someone you said no to. So if you laugh today, she'd want you to know you have her permission.

Donna was the loudest cheerer at every softball game, school play, and graduation in this family. She brought a cowbell. To a piano recital. She was asked, politely, to put the cowbell away. She did not.

She was a nurse for forty years, and she treated everyone the same way: with a warm blanket, a firm voice, and a joke at exactly the right moment. More than one person has told me this week that Donna was the reason they got through the worst night of their life.

When I first started dating her daughter, Donna sat me down and said, "I have one question. Do you play cards?" I said yes. That was the whole interview. We played gin rummy every Thanksgiving for twenty-three years, and she let me win exactly twice.

Donna, we'll cheer loud for you. We'll keep the cowbell. And we'll keep playing cards, even if none of us will ever be as good as you.

A sample we wrote by hand. The people in it are made up. Yours is written from your own stories.