How Do You Write A Eulogy

As soon as my eyes woke up to the bitter cold of the night and stars covered by black blanket of clouds, I knew that this was it. I had tried to prepare myself that day, but I was at school when it happened. The moment the intercom came over the classroom, “Hailey Wooldridge needs to come the office, her mom is here to check her out,” my heart stopped. I was able to make it to the office without losing my composure, but as soon as my eyes met my mom standing there with tears in hers I lost it. Right there standing in the school office, the food gates of heaven opened up in my eyes and I could not stop the rivers from flowing. My best friend since kindergarten had died. All the planning of moving in together when we went to college was down the drain. The late nights of watching horribly filmed scary movies was done. My heart was broken, and the pieces are still not taped together properly. Two days later was her funeral. Her mother had asked me to say a couple of words about her during the service, but the thought of standing next to her lifeless body talking about her and not to her made everything seem surreal. By the power of prayer and numerous amounts of tears, I stood up from my seat and walked lifelessly to the podium that viewed hundreds of people waiting to see what I had to say. I do not know how I got through that speech without hysterically crying, but somehow, I talked like I was having a conversation with Serra once again. In front of me, I

Imagine coming home from middle school to your grandmother house on your mother’s side to find it unusually quiet and everyone with tears in their eyes. Imagine being told your father had a routine surgery but nothing was routine about the results. Imagine having thanksgiving dinner with your family and the phone rings then you hear a loud scream and feet running towards you to let you know your father has died. Imagine going to school the following weeks and hearing jokes that your dad died because “the turkey was dry”, “He choked on a chicken bone”, and “He wanted to leave your mom”. I did not have to imagine because it became my reality at the age of 13.

I had never given much thought into how I would die. There’s something about being young that causes us to believe we’re invincible. It’s not like dying young is uncommon, it’s just that there’s something extra despairing about a life ending before it had really begun. Over the past 18 years, I’ve never thought twice about my mortality. I mean, it wasn’t anything special to me. I knew that I would eventually die, but eventuallies aren’t always as far as you think. Here I am, only 18 years old, my cold body

Your highness King Claudius, Queen Gertrude, Laertes, Ophelia, and dear friends. Today, we mourn the loss of a man who rose above and beyond the life he was given, but we gather to celebrate this life. The life of a respected acquaintance, a beloved friend and a cherished father: Polonius. Although he deserves such, we do not need a grand cathedral to pay homage to Polonius. As only those closest to him gather here today, we remember Polonius as a political peacekeeper and a great man. It is important that we recognise his bravery and service to the crown. For myself, Polonius was a master and a mentor. Our relationship was never bound by blood, but Polonius acted as a father. With his political prowess and savvy, yet good-willed familiarity with the crown, he guided me through every facet of life in Elsinore.

My dad pulled me out of the chapel and told me it was okay to cry, that the only way to get through something was to accept what had happened, and that if that made me cry, it was okay. Everybody sees crying as a weakness but it is not. Crying is a coping method for me, and many other people that i know. After the ceremony, many people left and went home. As i collected myself, I watched the leaves fall off the trees and to the ground as we followed the hearse that carried my great grandmother inside of it. We got out of the car and walked to the burial, where everybody stood and said their last words about Nannie. I stood in between my dad and my grandma, she reached into her pocket and handed me the cross that i had given to my great grandmother. I set it down in her right hand, remembering her telling me how much she loved her cross and how she felt that it would always keep her safe.

Connie felt not worthy of her mother, she felt she was less than her sister, yet she knew she was better than her sister June. Connie’s mother spoke about June so positive and so negatively about Connie, still, Connie knew she was prettier and better than June. Connie needed the reassurance even if it was from herself. “She was locked inside it the way she was locked inside this house.” Additionally, Connie feels locked inside herself, she is locked in her comfort zone, where it was fun and games. Connie soon realizing that this Friend guy is no fun but scary games. She wanted to stay at home where that other guy treated her, where she knew she was better than June, where her mother and father could help her. Now, there was no help no light in the day time, all she saw was darkness and evil in Friend’s eyes.

It was third grade, and I got the opportunity of a lifetime. I was going to get my very own short story published! I would be the author, the illustrator, and my own idol. I can recall how it all happened very vividly.

Today I am being Released from the hospital but i Realize that my time is now limited, more limited than what it was before, not my days are numbered. Since I found this out I decided to have a pre funeral so I can attend my own funeral. I asked Isaac and Hazel - Grace to write a eulogy for me. I had the pre funeral all set up it would just be me Hazel and Isaac. We all met up right outside the church where Support Group was held. Isaac said great things but I had to correct him on my age when I will die. Then it was Hazel’s turn to talk, her eulogy was wonderful it made me so happy to impact her life since she will impact the

The term of one’s death is rarely spoken about, especially at a young age. Therefore, when I was presented with the idea behind this assignment I was immediately held back. Those individuals in my family who have unfortunately passed away have been cremated and consequently no funerals have been held, so I was not aware of what a funeral eulogy truly was. I began researching on how to write one and why they were used, I quickly then noticed the importance and the reality of why family members take pride in commemorating those individuals who are meaningful to them. Pondering on the onset of my funeral I came to the conclusion that I specifically would desire that my younger sister would speak; she is the closest and most important individual

I sympathize with Jack because growing up his father beat him, he did not have very many friends, and with the way his siblings treated him, he was an only child. Jack’s father, Dwight, was no real father. He beat him, stole his money, often put Jack down, and he seemed bi-polar. One day he would be teaching Jack how to fight and fend for himself, and the next day he would steal Jack’s paper route money and beat Jack. Jack’s father had no method to his madness. Some small things would make him explode. Sometimes, he was a ticking bomb with a fuse that was as long as a mile and other days the fuse was the size of an inch. He was unpredictable as a father, if you could even call him that. I would not wish that kind of father on my worst enemy.

Today was funeral day. My mom’s funeral. It was a dark October thursday, the clouds were brewing a storm. A slight breeze disturbed my neck. My uncomfortable suit sleeves bellowed in the cold breeze.. I hadn’t felt any emotions since the day of her death, which was weeks ago, almost as if my emotion is grey. It was warm then, as my mind was too. Nowadays, up until today, my mind has been a dark fog, as if my mind was released into the sky, darkening everyone’s day, arriving at my mom’s funeral or just to cuddle up with their friends and family in front of a warm crackling fire, telling the stories of their childhood and how times were better. Not me, my dad usually ignored me and he only worked on managing my mom’s fortune. Yeah. My mom’s

In this journal I learned that designing a funeral isn’t an easy task. From thinking where to do the visitation to where to have the burial, it all requires time and patience. Not to mention comparing prices to get the best deal while getting quality, and thinking what to put both on your tombstone and in your obituary section in the paper. In contrast to this assignment, I want to be cremated and have my ashes scattered in the Atlantic Ocean, specifically near Cuba.

Hello. I appreciate you taking a moment out of your very busy day to read this.

now. The only thing I can do now is pray and hope. To pray that I will

According to the Merriam-Webster's dictionary, eulogy or elegy is the spoken or written tribute that praises someone or something very highly, a tribute to somebody who has recently died or alive. The word is derived from the two Greek words for "you" and "word" (Anton). The elegy dates back to classic Greek poetry containing two lines known as a couplet and combines many of these couplets to create the funeral poem (Anton). The most noted scholar and poet Callimachus, expressed powerful emotions in a shorter form than a full-length epic poem calling these "elegy" that captured many readers with his vivid style of expressing emotions. (funeralhomeestacoma). It wasn't until the 1800s that English poets like Lord Tennyson famous