Here's the Real Reason Why I Want to Write My Own Eulogy

Do you want to make friends? Do you want to connect with other older women? Then join our closed Facebook group, The Ethel Circle, today. You'll love it!


In recent months, I’ve attended four funerals.

Two were in honor of friends I’ve known since my senior year of high school. One was for the spouse of a neighbor, and one for a very lively gentleman, who, at 90, had played 18 holes of golf just days before his demise.

When I was in my 50s, I had only one friend who passed away. It was the husband of a college roommate. It was shocking that someone so young could have a terminal illness and be gone within months. The same goes for when I was in my 60s. When a colleague at work died unexpectedly, we would all comment on how young he looked, how fit he was.

In my 70s, however, far too many friends, neighbors and colleagues had passed away. Attending funerals and sending sympathy cards became commonplace. (Recently, I redid my telephone book and crossed out many names, addresses and contact information.)

Now that I am in my late 80s, I know for sure that in the not-so-distant future, a eulogy will be written about me. As I sit in a funeral chapel these days, I am totally focused on what a friend or relative of the deceased is sharing. There are no distractions.

Cell phones are off, and outside noises are sealed off. It is a moment in time for the speaker to express gratitude to their loved one and a public declaration that he or she may be gone, but will never be forgotten. I hang on to every word they say. I relate to their sweet memories, laugh at their funny stories, and hold back my tears when they struggle to express their painful feelings.

Whatever memories my children and grandchildren share about me, I hope they will never forget that my lap was always big enough to comfort each one of them.

I’d be thankful if they would share the ways in which I could make them laugh even when the chips were down, or how I would tell them how proud I was of even their slightest achievements.

Would they tell the mourners about the children’s book The Little Engine That Could (by Wally Piper) that I often read to both my children and grandchildren? The story, about a little train that had difficulty traveling up a big hill, kept on going until it reached the top, was a valuable teaching tool for me to encourage their self-confidence.

Even if my daughter Jennifer, now a grandmother, shares how embarrassed she was when I ran after her school bus (in my bathrobe and hair rollers) to deliver the lunch bag she left on the kitchen counter, I’m sure that she will also express her appreciation for my caring.

Perhaps my daughter Laurie will share the story of how, when she was a college freshman, I called her nightly to soothe her bruised ego because the guy she thought would invite her to the senior ball chose her best friend instead. Laurie is now an older adult citizen, but we still joke about Stupid Stephen and hope that he’s turned out fat and ugly!

Will my granddaughter Hannah, now a young adult, remember how I let her have ice cream for breakfast when her parents were away on vacation, but still laugh when we share our little secret?

I wonder if my granddaughter Julia, now a mommy herself, will tell how I’d let her stay up past her bedtime as we watched episodes of Saturday Night Live. And how she would quickly scamper into bed when we heard her parents come home after their night out! Perhaps these are silly little memories, but for me, they express a great deal of love and togetherness.

Sometimes, eulogies are said for friends, even for lovers. At the funeral of 86-year-old Edward, his 83-year-old girlfriend shared sweet stories of their six-year romance, which she explained was the bonus chapter of her life story. It was so unexpected, she said, but then she compared their romance to that little extra sweetness you get at the bottom of an ice cream cone or the glorious rainbow you see after a rain storm.

As the expression goes, it’s not over until it’s over, so I still have time to pay attention to the ways I can improve — or even heal — some of my relationships. I will thank my children and grandchildren for the joy they have given me, and whatever love I gave them, please pass it along to others.

I will no longer miss the chance to tell someone in my life how much they mean to me, nor put off that phone call — or visit — with a friend who could use a little extra TLC.

Time flies. I have work to do.

Would any of YOU ever want to write your own eulogy? Let us know in the comments below.