Reading examples is often the fastest way to find your own words. Below are eight sample eulogies for different relationships and situations. Each one is followed by brief notes on what it does well — because the goal isn't to copy these, but to understand what makes a eulogy land.
For a step-by-step guide to writing and delivering a eulogy, see our complete eulogy writing guide. These examples show what the finished product looks like.
Example 1: A Father (Warm and Specific)
My father was not a man of many words. He said what needed to be said and nothing more. But I want to tell you about one Saturday morning when I was eleven years old.
I had a baseball game — first one of the season, and I was terrified. I woke up at six and couldn't sleep. By six-thirty, my dad was in the kitchen with eggs and toast. He didn't say "You'll be fine" or "Don't be nervous." He just made breakfast. When we got in the car, he put on the radio. When I got out at the field, he said, "Have fun." That was it. And somehow, it was everything.
That's who my father was. He showed up. Every time, without being asked, he showed up. For forty-seven years, that was the way he loved us — quietly, completely, and without ever needing credit for it.
He was the most reliable person I have ever known. I don't know how we go forward without that kind of steady presence. But I know that's exactly what he would have wanted us to figure out.
Dad, thank you for every Saturday morning.
What works here: Specific story, not a list of accomplishments. The reader knows exactly what kind of man this was from one memory. The final line lands because of the setup, not in spite of it.
Example 2: A Mother (Humor and Grief Together)
I told my mother once that I was going to write her a eulogy someday, and she said, "Make sure you mention how right I was about everything." So, Mom — you were right about everything. Are you happy? Are you happy now?
She was. That's the thing about her — she was genuinely, simply happy, in the way that some people are who have figured out that happiness is mostly a decision.
She made the best soup I've ever tasted and had a drawer in the kitchen full of rubber bands that multiplied on their own. She kept birthday cards in a shoebox and could tell you what year she'd gotten each one. She spent thirty years teaching kindergarten, and every single one of those kids — I have met some of them, now grown — remembers her name.
She raised three children mostly by herself after 1987, and I don't know how she did it, and she never once complained about it. Not once.
She was here for 74 years and she filled every single one of them up. I'm going to miss her every day.
What works here: Opens with humor that immediately feels true to the person. Balances funny details (the rubber band drawer) with weight (raised three kids alone, never complained). The final line is simple and devastatingly honest.
Example 3: A Spouse (Intimate)
I have been trying for two weeks to figure out how to talk about my husband in the past tense. I keep starting sentences and stopping them because they sound wrong. He isn't past tense to me yet.
Richard and I were married for 39 years. We had the kind of marriage where we still liked each other. I don't know how rare that is, but I know it wasn't an accident — it was something he worked at. He was interested in me. After 39 years, he was still interested in what I had to say, what I thought, what made me laugh. That is the most loving thing a person can do for another person.
He drove me crazy sometimes. He left cabinet doors open. He watched the same three movies on repeat for decades. He thought he was much funnier than he was. (He was actually pretty funny.)
I don't know what comes next. But I know I was extraordinarily lucky. And I know that he knew I knew it. That's the best thing I can say about us.
What works here: Starts with honest vulnerability, not a performance. The "still interested in me" detail is more meaningful than any accomplishment list. The small complaint in the penultimate paragraph humanizes the love.
Example 4: A Grandparent (Long Life Remembered)
My grandfather was born in 1934 in a farmhouse in Mississippi, and he died last Tuesday in a hospital in Oregon surrounded by four generations of people who loved him. I've been trying to hold both of those facts in my head at the same time.
Grandpa lived 90 years and he did something with all of them. He worked hard. He was faithful to my grandmother for 62 years. He coached Little League for a decade. He made excellent cornbread and bad jokes and he was, unambiguously, the person the whole family organized itself around.
He didn't think of himself as remarkable. He thought he'd just done what people do. But I've been alive for 28 years and I have not yet met a person as consistently decent as Earl Whitmore. That, I have decided, is remarkable.
He told me once: "Just show up and do your part." I'm going to try, Grandpa. I'm going to try.
What works here: Opens with a striking juxtaposition — birthplace vs. death place across a lifetime. The closing quote lands because it's set up by the whole tribute. Short and confident.
Example 5: A Friend
I've been asked to speak about Marcus today, which is an honor and also completely impossible, because anyone who knew Marcus knows that words weren't really his thing. He communicated in looks, in shows up at the right time, in texts that just said "you good?" — and you always knew exactly what he meant.
I met Marcus in college in 2003 and we didn't become close right away. It crept up on me, the way things that matter usually do. By 2007 I realized he was the person I called when anything happened — good, bad, confusing, exciting. He was the standard I held other friendships up to.
He died at 42, which is not long enough. It's not long enough by decades. But the people who loved him are in this room, and there are a lot of us, and we are all going to carry him. That's the only thing I know to say.
What works here: The description of how they communicated is specific and instantly recognizable. The "crept up on me" line is honest about how friendship works. The ending doesn't tie a bow on grief — it sits with the unfairness of it.
Example 6: A Young Person (Early Death)
The hardest part about this — one of the many hardest parts — is that Maya had so much she was going to do. She was 26 years old and she talked about the future like it was already half-built. She was going to move to Barcelona. She was going to finish her book. She was going to run a half-marathon once it "felt like a good idea," which, knowing Maya, might have taken a while.
She won't get to do those things. That's real and that's devastating and I'm not going to pretend otherwise.
But here is what she did do: she made this room full of people feel that they mattered. Every single person here — I will bet you anything — has a specific memory of Maya saying something that made them feel seen. That was her gift. It was not a small gift. It was enormous.
We needed more time with her. That's just true. But the time we had was real, and she made it count, and I am so grateful she was here.
What works here: Names the grief directly — "she won't get to do those things" — rather than rushing past it. The pivot to what she did accomplish is earned because of that honesty. The final lines don't resolve the grief; they hold it.
Example 7: Delivered by a Child for a Parent (Simple and True)
I'm not very good at speeches. My dad knew that. He also knew I would do it anyway, because that's the kind of dad he was — the kind that made you think you could do things you weren't sure about.
My dad worked hard his whole life. He didn't complain. He came to everything — every game, every school thing, every terrible school play where I had like two lines and he still sat in the front row and looked proud. I don't know how he did that without his eyes glazing over, but they never did.
I'm going to miss him. I'm going to miss calling him when I don't know what to do. I'm going to miss his advice, which was often the same advice but it always helped. I'm going to miss him just being there.
I love you, Dad. Thank you for everything.
What works here: Simple, direct, and emotionally honest. Short sentences. Doesn't overreach. Opens with self-deprecation that becomes a tribute. The list of things to miss is specific enough to feel real.
Example 8: Shorter Tribute (2 Minutes)
Some people fill a room when they walk in. Susan Park filled a room when she was just thinking about walking in.
She was generous and funny and she never let anyone eat alone at a party. She remembered birthdays not just of people she loved, but of their children, their dogs, their difficult situations. She asked follow-up questions. She meant it when she asked how you were.
She was 58 years old, and that is far too young, and I'm not going to pretend today that it isn't. She deserved decades more. So did we.
Thank you, Susan, for being exactly who you were. It was enough, and it was more than enough.
What works here: A strong, memorable opening image. Specific details that accumulate into a full person. Doesn't avoid the unfairness of the age. Closes with gratitude rather than loss.
Write Your Own
Use these examples as a starting point. The most important thing is that your eulogy feels true — not impressive, not polished, but true. The specific detail that makes a room laugh or catch its breath is almost always the one that came from real life.
If you're helping a family member prepare, FinalKeepSake's AI Writing Studio can generate a personalized eulogy draft based on information about the person — a starting point to edit and make your own.