How to write a eulogy: structure, what to include, and an example

If you've just been asked to speak at a funeral, and you've never written a eulogy before, the instinct is to search for the right words. That's usually the wrong place to start. The right place to start is with a structure, because a structure turns a blank page and a flood of memories into a series of small, answerable questions. Once you know what goes where, the words come from things you already know about them.

This guide walks through that structure, what belongs in each part, what to leave out, and how long the whole thing should run. At the end there's a filled-in example skeleton you can adapt directly. If you'd rather answer a few guided questions and get a real draft back, Eulogia's free tool does that in a few minutes, and it's linked below whenever you want it.

The five-part structure that makes this easier

Almost every eulogy that lands well, whether it's for a parent, a sibling, a friend, or a colleague, follows some version of this shape. You don't have to use these exact labels or this exact order, but each piece answers a question the room is quietly asking.

• Opening. Who you are and how you knew them. One or two sentences, no more. This orients the room before anything else.
• Who they were. Not a resume of jobs and dates, but the handful of traits that actually described them, the ones people who knew them would nod along to.
• A specific memory. One real, concrete moment. This is the part a template can never write for you, and it's usually the part people remember most.
• What they meant, to you and to others. How they showed up for people. What changed because they were here.
• The closing. A short, direct farewell. It doesn't need to resolve anything or tie a bow on grief; it just needs to be honest and to end.

What to include

The parts of a eulogy that actually land are almost always specific, not general. “She was a loving mother” could describe millions of people and says nothing that couldn't be said about anyone. “She used to call me at exactly 8pm on Sundays, whether I picked up or not” says something only she did.

Concretely, aim to include:

• Two or three real traits, each backed by a small example rather than stated on its own. Not “he was funny” but the specific joke he told at every family dinner.
• One memory told in detail: where you were, what happened, what it says about them. Slow this part down; it's usually the emotional center of the eulogy.
• A sense of how they treated people, if that felt true to them. This is often what a colleague or a wider circle most wants to hear reflected.
• One line that's just yours. A phrase, a nickname, a way of saying goodbye that only makes sense between you and them.

What to leave out

A funeral is a public moment inside a very private grief, which means some things that are true and important don't belong in the eulogy itself.

• Family conflict or private struggles that aren't yours to share in a room that includes people who may not know, or may know too well. Save that for a private conversation, not the service.
• In-jokes only three people will understand. A specific memory is good; a reference nobody else can follow just creates an awkward pause.
• Every single thing you could say about them. A eulogy isn't a biography. Pick a few things that are true and specific, and trust that to represent the whole person better than an exhaustive list would.
• Apologies for how you're speaking or how you look. “I'm not a great public speaker” is understood by everyone in the room already; saying it out loud just adds a beat of anxiety before you've started.

How long a eulogy should actually be

Most eulogies run two to five minutes when read at a normal, unhurried pace, which works out to roughly 300 to 750 words. That's short enough to hold a grieving room's attention and long enough to say something real. If your first draft runs much longer, that's normal; the second pass is usually about cutting, not adding. Read it out loud once, with a timer, before the day itself. It will almost always run longer than it looks on the page.

An example skeleton you can adapt

This isn't a finished eulogy. It's the shape from above, filled in loosely, so you can see how the pieces connect. Swap in your own relationship, your own trait, and your own memory, and the eulogy is genuinely yours.

If the funeral is in the next few days

When there's almost no runway, skip straight to the raw material. Don't open a blank document and try to write sentences. Instead, write down, in any order and in plain words:

• Two or three things that were specifically true about them.
• One real memory, in as much detail as you can remember.
• One way they showed up for you or for other people.

Once those exist, even as rough notes, the structure above turns them into a readable eulogy fast, because the hard part, remembering who they were, is already done. If you'd rather have that turned into an opening excerpt for you right now, free, the tool below does exactly that from the same kind of input.

Delivering it on the day

Print it rather than reading from a phone; a screen that dims or a notification is the last thing you need. Use a large font and generous spacing so you can find your place instantly if you look up. Mark two or three natural pause points, places where a breath is not just acceptable but expected. Read slower than feels natural; grief compresses time and most people speed up without realizing it. And if you can, do one full read-through out loud, alone, before the day. Hearing your own voice say the hardest lines once, privately, makes it considerably easier to say them again in front of people.