THE HUMBLE ART OF THE EULOGY
On reading the first statement from our Prime Minister, Julia Gillard on the death of her beloved father, John I was thinking of how sorrowful her trip home to Australia must have been.
Perhaps she was mulling over the words she might say at his funeral. Where to start, how to end. How to make sense of a whole life in a short address.
Have you ever delivered a eulogy? I have, only once. It’s daunting, even for an old stager like me. But it’s a sacred task and one that I think you should try to accept, if you are able.
I’d been planning to write something on the topic after attending the memorial for a dear old friend recently and hearing four speakers who did a magnificent job of it. Words carefully chosen can be such a balm for the soul. They can ease pain, deepen friendships and associations and be profoundly affecting, reminding us of the grand themes of life and death.
I think my favourite theatre of all is to listen to words which are offered next to a flickering candle– be it for a baptism, birthday, funeral or memorial service.
These aren’t heroic soliloquies from the pulpit or the podium, but humble words from a brother, sister, daughter, son, a friend or colleague on their feet, holding a scrap of paper in nervous fingers and delivered with halting voice. They have great power.
And so it was with my friend, the late theatre director Nigel Triffitt.
We gathered in the Fairfax studio of the Victorian Art Centre in Melbourne – so appropriate for his life’s calling, no cathedral could have offered anything finer – and his earthly remains were there too. His ashes in a casket on the stage surrounded by candles, some favourite lengths of cloth and statues gathered on his many travels.
What followed was a ritual designed with infinite care that was so perfect for him that I felt his presence and was able to say ‘goodbye’ in a way that truly honoured our friendship. The words expressed everything that I’d loved about Nigel and things I’d forgotten – his indosyncracies, his kindnesses, his petulance, his brilliance. I was able to move from darkness into the light.
What a gift it was! For me. Not him. Because of course, he’s now beyond all caring.
As I say, I have been asked only once to write a eulogy – ten years ago now – for my treasured friend, Mietta O’Donnell and it was a fittingly grand affair for the doyenne of the Melbourne arts and restaurant scene.
The St. Mary Star of the Sea Catholic church was packed to overflowing, a carpet of roses draped the coffin, Yvonne Kenny sang from the gallery, and the late Ruth Cracknell and I gave the eulogies which were broadcast on ABC radio.
So, you know, no pressure! But I carried it off, I think. My voice cracking only on the very last words … “we do love you so.”
In Richard Walsh’s book, a collection called Great Modern Australian Eulogies, he has this to say: “Unlike obituaries, eulogies are highly personal and intimate. That is why I find them so entrancing, as they provide a small window into deeper human emotions.
“A eulogist addressing friends…wants to be a persuasive advocate. Just as we know that the most persuasive lies embrace as much truth as possible, so it is that conjuring up an unrealistically virtuous life is rarely very convincing, particularly among friends who know otherwise.
“A great eulogy, in my view, is a wonderfully eloquent little dramatic monologue that conjures up the very essence of someone’s spiritual core.”
He says that Australian euologies are often laconic, with a few laughs thrown in. (And yes, I managed to get a couple of laughs during my eulogy for Mietta, which seemed about right because she had showcased my one-woman comedy shows at her restaurant, Mietta’s.)
Walsh says that we shouldn’t give “stuffy” speeches, but instead have the confidence to “paint truthful and humorously affectionate portraits” of our own dear departed.
“We bury even our most significant citizens, not with the overblown pomp for which Americans and Brits strain, but with proper recognition that even our greatest are human beings possessed of good and bad qualities.”
He also rejoices that these days, eulogies have been liberated from the hands of the clergy and the religiosity of sermons about eternal salvation or damnation. Those words have little emotional resonance for most of us.
And also, living in a society that’s secular and humanistic: “… we feel liberated by giving expression to our genuine sadness, and not attempting the stoicism of earlier generations. These days even men feel free to express affection uninhibitedly.”
We are now able to express love, just from one human being to another. The power. And the glory.
To illustrate that, here’s a simple, but moving eulogy from Walsh’s collection given by a mother for her son who died at just eight and half months…
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47 Responses to this article
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Colin September 8, 2012
Nice, Wendy. There’s certainly a lot of power in words and a lot of strength to be borrowed from them in sad and trying times.
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Margot September 8, 2012
Lovely Wendy. I haven’t delivered a eulogy but I’ve written a few, for family. It’s quite lovely to be able to do something constructive after someone close to you dies. The grief can be overwhelming but it is an honour to be able to honour someone close to you with well-chosen words.
We must also realise that we should say the nice things we mean to say to those around us whenever the mood strikes. They won’t be listening when they’re dead.
If you love someone, tell them. They may be a little uncomfortable or undemonstrative, but it will put a spring in their step. -
Lisa N September 8, 2012
Thank you, Wendy. A wonderful reminder of how the beauty and power of words can create a vivid picture of a life. I was not capable of standing up at my beloved grandfather’s funeral, but I wrote a short piece that my uncle read, and for my father, I wrote what became his obituary in the local paper (he was heavily involved with his local community). How do you hold it together to deliver a eulogy? I am usually a blubbering mess at most funerals!
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Stacie September 8, 2012
This is such a beautiful and poignant post, Wendy.
The last two funerals I attended were that of my dad’s former boss and my own grandfather.
It was things like finding out my dad’s former boss loved nothing more than to watch Bold and the Beautiful in the afternoons to bring out the laughs. No one would have imagined a man like him enjoying a show like that. But the thing I’ll remember most from that sad day was a quote that he would often say: “It’s nice to be nice.” Such a simple message, but one we often forget.
At my grandfather’s funeral, my cousin reminisced about all the funny jokes he would tell and his favourite sayings, to which her young son piped up with “bloody oath!” which sent everyone in to fits of laughter.
When someone has passed there is nothing you can do to change things. A funeral is painful enough, however it’s the eulogies read that bring some joy to such a sad day.
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Tracie September 8, 2012
I would love to be strong enough to put some well chosen words together at a loved ones funeral, any tips? Usually I am very emotional
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Mish September 8, 2012
I wrote a lengthy eulogy for my beloved Mother, just over two years ago now. I wasn’t up to reading it, however. I wrote a piece for my Father 21 years ago now. I wasn’t asked to read it then. I’ve only ever read out a paragraph I wrote for my Uncle, two years ago. It’s not an easy task by any means. But it certainly can be a rewarding one.
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Jenny E. September 8, 2012
“I wrote and delivered a eulogy for my dad. As the funeral was in my home church I felt quite at ease – though overwhelmed at times – I find it is a song that can bring you to your knees, more than words. It was very healing to write as I remembered and related this to others. Also found I had to recollect a lot of family pix, pictures bring it all to life.”
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Mish September 8, 2012
My cousin and I also put together a lovely photo montage to music for my Mum & Uncle. It was something I was very proud of! Such a special keepsake to reminisce and treasure forever.
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susan September 8, 2012
I wrote and delivered the eulogy for my physically disabled spinster aunt and it was such a privilege. I could tell my father was nervous about what I might say as she had spent a lot of her life institutionalised, in pain and marginalised so the traditional markers and successes of life were not hers and there would not have been a lot to remember about her life. I wanted everyone to remember the way she laughed, the way she sang and the beautiful cross stitches she created and to acknowledge how she had fed my fiction addiction by giving me books as a child and that regardless of her small life she mattered and she counted.
My family and the small group at her funeral were really impressed and for me, it felt so right to acknowledge her this way. -
Mich September 8, 2012
My husband was asked by a long time friend to deliver her eulogy…she knew her days were numbered and was able to ask him herself. They had been friends since school days. He went home that day and wrote it straight from the heart. We went to visit her in hospital knowing it was likely the last time we would see her and he took a copy of what he had written. He was able to give her a copy to read if she wanted to after we left. I’ve thought since then that my husband gave her a rare gift of knowing what her eulogy would contain before she died. People say that you should say those words to the living but sometimes it can be a tough thing to do. We shed many tears that week and walking out of that hospital room for the last time was so hard. The eulogy was delivered, as promised, and the congregation knew that she knew the words they were hearing.
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Bronwen September 8, 2012
my daughter lost a child at 31 days – she too was born early and after coming home did look as if she was fairing well. When my daughter delivered her eulogy I was never more proud of her – her quiet strength, her courage, her compassion and her beautiful words…
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Lynette Lyall September 8, 2012
I have recently had to write 2 eulogies, for my son 20 yr and for my daughter 16yr (only children) both killed in a car accident. it took me a week to write them, it seemed an impossible task. i was unable to read them myself, i asked the celebrant to do so. I was totally amazed though that many of my children”s friends wrote and read a tribute,up on a stage with microphone and truly captured the essence of my children. I will be forever grateful to them for being able to do this.
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Rusty Hoe September 8, 2012
I’ve only given one, for my 9-year-old nephew who we lost in a road accident in 2000. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do but I’m glad I did and regard it as a huge honour that my sister asked.There was sorrow but also stories and laughter, it was more celebration than mourning. I still have my handwritten notes tucked away in a photo album dedicated to him. The papers are creased and a bit tear stained with multiple re-writes in the margins but it is still special to me. I still can’t bear to read it again, but it’s reassuring to know it’s there when I am ready to.
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Annie from Faulco September 9, 2012
My late husband spent the last 5 days of his life in the wonderful Katoomba Hospital.
He distracted me from my sorrow by tasking me to organise his Life Celebration. He chose very idiosyncratic music and a cardboard coffin with a forest scene. He was a bushfire fighter (Group Captain, elected by his peers), and wanted to be cremated in ironic style.
Eulogisers were requested to tell funny stories, and they all did. (Lots of piss-taking.) We all laughed and cried. My friend read a tribute from me.
When going through the details of his event, John asked me about the exit plan. I said they’ll wheel you out, drive you away with the RFS guard of honour, and then we’ll all have nice food and drinkies.
He asked if he could stay for the after-party, and when the funeral directors said NO, he asked me to have a song played: “Am I Not Pretty Enough?” as they wheeled him out..
Many people asked me about this song choice.
It was his protest against the death industry.
He would have liked to have had an hour or so in his box with his mates at the after-party.
Especially the bloke who was mic-shy, and tapped the box as he eulogised in our bushfire brigade shed where John’s non-funeral was held.
It was, however, a good event for a good community man, who was a superb husband and a wonderful father.
I think it’s important to plan, if you can, the type of event you’d like to have when you die.
I miss him with an ache that corrodes my soul. The wisest woman I know, my stepmother aged 90, tells me that you never get over the loss, you just get used to it.
Thank you for reading this..
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Cathy September 9, 2012
Annie – 10 words beautifully used to describe a deep and abiding love “I miss him with an ache that corrodes my soul”. When I say I’m sorry for your loss, I do so knowing how profound that loss is. Thank you for sharing that with us. Beautiful story.
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Annie from Faulco September 23, 2012
Thank you, Cathy.
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K September 9, 2012
I delivered my first eulogy yesterday for a very dear friend. I was terrified, my kids stood with me and gave me the support I needed … I did her proud… And her children hugged me emotionally afterward…… Beyond an honour!
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Martina September 9, 2012
Thank you Wendy. I delvered my fathers eulogy and it was such an honour to perform this last duty of love. For an example of a dignified and erudite eulogy see the eulogy delivered by Malcolm Turnbull for Bob Hughes
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=qlz2KuTr96w -
suzanne September 9, 2012
Wonderful stories above. As a celebrant I am often faced with the task of encouraging people to face the challenge of reading the words they need to say. I remind them that they only get one chance at this and dont let there be any regrets that you never did it. Above stories reinforce the heart strengthening rewards received from the courage.Thanks Wendy,big hugs.
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Cathy September 9, 2012
thank you Wendy for a lovely piece – and for the great responses above.
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Melissa September 9, 2012
Lynette thank you for sharing your story. I so sorry for you loss. how wonderful that ur children had such strong and meaningful friendships.
Thanks Wendy great piece xxx -
Mish September 9, 2012
In hindsight, I wish I could have read part if what I wrote for my mum and not have had the celebrant read it all. Lovely as she was. I had no other family member offer to read it, either. Not that there was many to ask! No regrets, you just do what you feel comfortable with at the time. And don’t be too hard on yourself if you can’t manage it. If you can share the task, all the better.
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julie September 9, 2012
The PM looked totally shattered getting into that limo to go to the airport this morning. Thank goodness most people have been civil about offering condolences though some reactions were incomprehensibe. I’ve buried 14 close friends and family over the years- so far – and each eulogy was devastating to write. In recent years I’ve taken to writing eulogies before people die so they can read them. Often we leave telling people how we fell unti lit’s too late. This Father’s Day I found the very first thing I ever wrote (post school!) It was the eulogy to my Dad who had died 20 years before-on Father’s Day Here it is http://julieboyd.com.au/fathers-day-farewell-dad/
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sue bell September 9, 2012
There are a few physical things you can do to help you deliver a speech or eulogy especially if you are afraid your emotions will take over. Take a couple of seconds to breath slowly and deeply, stand in a comfortable position with your feet slightly apart, deliberately lower your shoulders stand up straight and tighten your core muscles. Look at the audience as you speak. Speak at a slightly slower pace and let your eyes move over the audience. If emotions take over, you feel your throat tightening and your voices goes higher, stop, take a deep breath, lower the shoulders and continue.
Read your eulogy a few times out loud to practice, pay particular attention to where you will need to breath.
Speeches, no matter what the occasion, are a chance to share emotions and personal anecdotes about someone. It is a great honour to be asked to give one. Good luck -
Rhoda September 9, 2012
I learnt at my father’s funeral that it was really about the words – listening really hard to them, trying to figure out the meaning of it all. No one person knows the full story do they. The words are a comfort. Truly.
At my father’s funeral I listened but didn’t speak. Couldn’t, just couldn’t. I was overwhelmed and loved him too much. Wish wish I could have spoke the words I was listening for.
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Trinity September 9, 2012
I have given three eulogies. The first two a while back, for an aunt, and my grandma. I was young, a bit bold, and the enormity of it probably escaped me a little back then.
Recently, I delivered the eulogy at mum’s funeral, and it was a completely different task. Death had come rushing for her, and at the end, she asked me to do it, she wanted me to stand up and speak proudly about her life. And I did. Took a deep breath, chin up, shoulders back, and told glorious stories of a life lived well.And one more to come, it seems…. Death is waiting in the wings for my father, and I intend to learn from others here and talk to him about his eulogy.
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WrappingUp Com September 10, 2012
Terrific article Wendy. We created a free community service website to help the recently bereaved and those interested in later life issues. http://www.wrappingup.com. We know that the more thought that goes into preparing for the inevitable the less stressful it can be for those left behind. Here’s our link on writing eulogies: https://www.wrappingup.com/recently-bereaved/funerals/eulogy. You can also download a funeral plan template, get the music from our sites list of popular choices or find a link to many other services.
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Bitter and Twisted? You Bet! September 10, 2012
At the age of 42, my step sister (always the actress) accused my step dad, her father, of childhood sexual abuse. One of those unproven ‘repressed memory’ shinanigins. It killed him. We lost a decent, kind and generous man. Would you believe, at his funeral she was spewing because she wanted to read the Eulogy. With absolutely no respect for my mother she got up anyway and made a half arsed attempt. It was absolutely laughable and made everyone there VERY uncomfortable. But she couldn’t resist a captive audience could she? The official Eulogy reader, his best friend of over 50 years did a fine job afterwards. To add insult to injury, she’s publishing a book and there is nothing we can do about it.
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Ro. Watson September 10, 2012
I wonder how it would be,as an exercise,to write your own eulogy?
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Dolly September 10, 2012
Mietta’s sister once told me that the most appropriate place for unfortunate behaviour was a funeral as people were at their most forgiving. It was with her words I was able to deliver my dad’s eulogy. Although I had never before, nor since, been seen as dignified I was in that moment. I was unafraid of the snotty, blubbering mess I may become because I knew those around me on that day would forgive me.
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Annie Also September 10, 2012
For my mother (she died with MS) I did two things. I wrote a ‘eulogy’ of sorts..felt more comfortable about concentrating on her ‘hands’. I used that centrepiece to speak about her, her life, her duty, her love.
I then sang with my two small girls “Jean”. I don’t know what people thought..no one said much…but I did my best.
For my dad I was with him for the last few years of his life as he moved into Aged care and slipped into Alzhiemers…because of this I was able to tell him all I needed to; to thank him for his love, care, loving my mum, his kindnesses, his passing on to me the love of music and poetry. I thanked him and said all I needed to before he finally ‘disappeared’ beneath dementia. He did not live long after that so I let others speak at his funeral, but made sure he got the music, songs, hymns and readings and prayers he wanted ( I am an atheist so it was simple for me).The practical stuff was easy…it was dealing with other family members who were NOT there in the last years that was the most difficult. -
Ro. Watson September 10, 2012
This is all terribly touching~ all the moving forward and moving back. And Dolly~ I wonder~ what is “dignity”~ supposedy a human right,and ditto “respect”~ both of which, I hope are there, in some form or another, at every person’s funera, and more importantly,significantly, in every person’s life….
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Ro. Watson September 10, 2012
How many funeras does one do in one’s own life? Door closing, ship sunk,
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Josie September 10, 2012
As a funeral celebrant – after reading others comments it only reiterates what I truly believe should happen at a funeral service …. That being a well presented authentic ceremony that leaves people feeling better than when they first walked into the service -and that their loved one truly was honored ….I do think times are changing ing for the better …. People are demanding and rightfully so personalized ceremonies for their lived ones …. Not just ‘one size fits all’ …. Because it simply just doesn’t
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Ro. Watson September 10, 2012
How can one make the last good-bye a challenging and “you thought you me knw mw mw, but you did not” event” ~ as pride swells for some~ others know they have been indifferent for years~ what difference does this make? Dare I suggest
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Ro. Watson September 10, 2012
Thank you editor for giving me an appropriate and cordial exit from this topic~ but I am not finished yet~ too much eulogising for those still with us. Too little dignity, care and respect for the life we still have in and with us..
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Rhoda September 10, 2012
It’s so hard when you are consumed by grief. I went to the funeral of a neighbour’s son I knew and had known from birth. He committed suicide at age 16. His parents were good and loving parents. And at that funeral I wept and wept and still weep. I found no consolation at his funeral. I was waiting for something that never arrived. Words that told me he mattered to the world while he lived in it. I mourn him still.
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Ro. Watson September 10, 2012
I have been touched and hurt by strangers’ deaths over and over again~ partly because they are are emblematic of closer in deaths, and partly because, as a sensitive person, I can feel the mourning, even though I do not know the family and friends, and because so many deaths in Australia are possibly preventable. How to resolve as I make ready a eulogy for everyone gone, in my own heart and mind I feel early loss, and big grief for those left behind..even as I know, some deaths have left me feeling quite tormented~ like the suicides, and early deaths……..
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Annie September 11, 2012
I delivered a eulogy for my best friends mum the day before I was due to fly out for a family wedding overseas. They partially wrote it and I said it. It was a very emotional day for my best friend of over 40 years and my gift to her in her absolute grief. The whole family was emotional and everyone took some comfort in the unknown life story of their beloved mother and grandmother. I was determined to say the words without tears and falling apart because I was very conscious that my job was to be the mouth piece for the family none of whom were able to get the words out. I am glad I did it because even as an “non believer” I took some solace from the words written by the people who knew her best and loved her most.
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Prue October 25, 2012
I had the honour of giving the eulogy at my Grandmother’s funeral recently. For me it was a gift I could give my mum and her sisters as they grieved their mother. It was also an opportunity for all of us to remind ourselves about the real Grandma and not the woman who had been ravaged by Alzheimer’s. Finding out about her school days, from her little brother, was hilarious and we benefitted greatly from the laugh.
