At the funeral of a friend or a colleague, talk about the person you knew, not their whole life: one scene, a phrase they always used, what other people thought of them. You are not family, and that is your advantage. You hold the part of their life the family never saw, and it is the part they are hungriest for. Two to three minutes is enough.
Three complete examples follow, to rework with your own details.
Give them what only you have
A family knows the person at home. They often have almost no picture of the person at work, or with friends, or in the ordinary middle of a Tuesday.
Describe that. What they were like in a meeting. The running joke. What they kept on their desk. Who they helped when nobody was watching. How they answered the phone.
Go for a scene rather than an adjective. "He was generous" tells the room nothing; "he lent his car to anyone who asked and never once checked the mileage" says the same thing, and people remember it.
This is the material that makes a family say afterwards: I didn't know that. That sentence is the whole point of you being up there.
Keep it shorter than the family's
Two to three minutes, which is 300 to 400 words — barely a page. You are one of several speakers, and the register is different: you are adding a dimension, not summing up a life. A friend who talks as long as a son or a sister throws the whole service off balance, and everyone feels it.
Write it out in full, even if you are usually good on your feet. Grief wipes your memory at the worst moment, and nobody minds you reading.
Be careful with two things
Anything the family did not know. An affectionate story about a night out is fine. A story that reveals a relationship, a debt, an illness they hid, or an opinion about a family member is not yours to introduce at a funeral. If you are unsure, ask whoever is organizing the service before the day.
Inside jokes. A reference only six people understand isolates the other hundred. If a joke needs setup, either do the setup properly or leave it out.
Three texts to adapt
A colleague
Say how long you worked together and in what capacity — the room contains people who have no idea who you are. Then be specific about the work. Not "a valued member of the team": what they were actually good at, and a moment that showed it. A list of job titles read out next to a coffin honours nobody.
I worked with Priya for eleven years, most of them at the next desk. She trained me. My first week, I sent a file to the entire company by mistake. She didn't laugh, she didn't tell anyone, and she showed me how to recall it. Then she said: "Right, that's your one." Every new starter since has heard that sentence from me, because I heard it from her. Most of you knew Priya as the person who fixed things. I knew her as the person who made you believe they could be fixed. Thank you, Priya.
Speak for yourself, not for the company, unless you have been asked to. And settle nothing: a restructuring, a dispute, a sense that they were treated badly has no place here, not even as a hint.
A childhood friend
You knew a version of them the family may have forgotten, or never met.
Claire and I met when we were eight, because our teacher sat us next to each other to keep us quiet. It didn't work then, and it hasn't worked since. Thirty-five years of talking, a good part of it on the phone at hours no sensible person is awake. Her family knows her better than I do on almost everything. But I knew Claire at ten, the girl who was going to be a vet and was terrified of dogs. I wanted you to meet her.
A friend you met later in life
A club, a street, a choir: you know almost nothing about the life before, and that is fine. Say what you saw.
I met Graham six years ago at the walking group. I know almost nothing about his life before that. I know he always walked at the front, and that at the top of the last climb he would stop and wait for the rest of us while pretending to admire the view. I know he could name every tree we passed and never once showed off about it. On Sunday we'll walk the loop without him. And we'll stop at the top of the hill.
Ending
Do not end with a sentiment about loss — that belongs to the family. End with them.
The office has a kettle that only she knew how to work. We've all been using the other one.
A small true detail closes better than a large sentence, and it leaves the room where you want it: thinking about the person, not about the speech.
How to write a eulogy covers the method in full. If you are writing to the family rather than speaking, see what to write in a sympathy card; for what to say to them in the weeks after, what to say to someone grieving. If you cannot be there at all, paying respects from far away. And the main guide for the rest.
