How To Start A Conversation About Your Funeral
In the two years or so since I started PostScript Eulogies, I have written hundreds of eulogies for people who have lost someone. In that time, I have done countless video calls or sat in living rooms with grieving families, notebooks open, asking a widow or a daughter or a best friend to tell me about the person they lost, and in almost every one of those conversations, the same quiet regret soon surfaces.
At some point someone will say, "I wish I'd known what she wanted" or "We never talked about it. We're just guessing" or "He would have hated this music, but we don't know what else to play". The latter happens more than you might think!
As a professional eulogy writer, I've learned that the most meaningful funerals, those that truly feel like the person being honoured, belong to people who talked about it first. Not in a morbid, doom-laden way. Just openly, warmly, the way you'd discuss any other important family event. I've also come to understand that having that conversation in advance doesn't just help the people left behind. It brings a surprising, deep sense of peace to the person planning it.
If you've been wondering about how to start a conversation about your funeral or have been meaning to have this conversation for some time and still don't know where to begin, this is the blog for you.
How To Start A Conversation About Your Funeral or Why Bother Having The Conversation At All?
It's a good question, so let's start with the honest reasons, because they're more compelling than you might think.
When someone dies without leaving any guidance at all, their family is left planning one of the most emotionally significant events of their lives while in the rawest state of grief.
They're choosing readings, music, venues and speakers, while barely able to think straight. Worse, they're often arguing, because everyone has a different idea of what "Mum would have wanted".
When you've had the conversation, all of that pressure lifts. Your family isn't guessing; they're following a map you drew for them. It is, without exaggeration, one of the greatest gifts you can leave behind: the relief of not having to guess.
But there's another benefit, and it's one people don't expect.
Talking about your funeral while you're healthy and here is strangely life-affirming. It forces you to ask: what do I actually want to be remembered for? What mattered to me? What do I want my grandchildren to know? People who have this conversation often tell me later it clarified something in them; a sense of having put their affairs, and their heart, in order.
There's comfort in knowing. Real comfort.
Finding The Right Moment
This is often the first stumbling block. Once you've made the decision, don't announce it like a summit meeting. "We need to talk about my funeral! Gather round everyone" will probably send everyone running for the hills, or at least reaching for the wine. Instead, let it come up naturally. You could:
Use a hook - Whether that's a film or TV funeral, a celebrity's death, a friend's service; any of these things opens the door. You could say something like, "That service was lovely, but it made me think, I'd want something much simpler." There. The conversation has started, and nobody had to be brave about it.
Use a practical moment - If you're writing or updating your will, sorting out life insurance, or organising paperwork, mention it: "Since I'm doing this, I should tell you what I'd want for my funeral too." It becomes one more item on a practical list rather than a looming emotional ordeal.
Use a car journey - Let's face it, some of the best conversations happen side by side, not face to face. Driving somewhere when no eye contact is required, and there's no pressure to fill silences, is ideal for difficult subjects like this.
Use humour, gently. If your family jokes together, let that carry you in. "Right, when I go, no bagpipes. I mean it, and I want everyone eating, not standing around being miserable." A light opening doesn't make the subject trivial. It just makes it possible.
What To Actually Talk About
Once you've broken the ice, keep in mind that you don't need to plan every detail at once. Start with the broad strokes and add and hone your requests as you go. Start with:
Burial or cremation? - Where would you like to be buried or where would you like your ashes scattered, if anywhere?
Where should it be held? - A church, a crematorium, a pub, a garden, a beach?
Music - This is where people agonise most. Give them three or four specific songs, including one to walk in to and one to leave to. Please be specific; vague instructions like "something classical" or "that song from that movie we saw" cause sleepless nights.
Readings or poems - If you do want them, choose something that means something to you, not other people.
Who should speak? - Decide who should read the eulogy (if the service allows) and perhaps more importantly, who shouldn't feel obliged to.
What should people wear? - Black is obviously traditional, but it's not written in stone. You can make your own dress code. Do you want attendees to wear a particular colour, no black at all, football shirts, fancy dress, whatever it is, say it now.
Food and drink afterwards - The wake matters more than people expect.
What you'd like said about you - This is where I come in, and I'll come back to it later.
What you don't want - Often what you don't want is just as important as what you do. Whether that's no open casket, no long speeches, or no flowers so people instead donate to your favourite charity. Clear negatives are as valuable as positives.
Whatever you decide, write it down. A single sheet of paper, kept with your will or in a drawer your family knows about, saves everyone from relying on memory in a crisis.
Keeping It From Becoming Too Heavy
Yes, this conversation can be sad. It involves your death, and the people you love are being asked to imagine life without you. Pretending otherwise would be dishonest, but it doesn't have to be morbid, and there's a difference.
Acknowledge the sadness, then keep moving - If someone cries, don't panic or retreat. "I know, love. It's strange to talk about, but I'd rather we talked about it now than you had to guess later". Name it, hold it, continue.
Keep the tone conversational, not solemn - You're not delivering a eulogy; you're family having a chat. Tea, biscuits, a bit of laughter. It's allowed.
Break it into pieces - As I mentioned earlier, nobody says you have to cover everything in one sitting. Talk about music one week, readings the next. Small doses are more digestible.
Turn it back on them - Saying something like "What would you want at yours?" makes it a shared family conversation rather than a spotlight on you, and it gives you both permission to be honest.
Remind them of the purpose - A simple sentence like "This isn't me being morbid. It's me making things easier for you. That's all" is often enough to keep the mood from getting too sad.
Don't force it - If someone genuinely can't handle it today, leave it. You've planted the seed. Return to it another time.
The Part Nobody Expects: Satisfaction
Here's what I've observed in people who've had this conversation well in advance. They become calmer about the whole thing. Not because they're unafraid of death, but because a burden has lifted. The unknown has been made known. Their family knows their wishes. Their story is, in a sense, already in safe hands.
There's a particular kind of satisfaction in that — the same feeling you get from writing a will or clearing a debt. It's done. It's sorted, and the people you love will one day stand in a room full of people who cared about you, and instead of floundering, they'll be able to say: "We know exactly what he wanted, and we're doing it". That is a profound comfort, and you can give it to them.
One Thing Worth Considering: Your Own Words
Here's where I'll be gently honest with you, as someone who does this for a living. Most families, when the time comes, find themselves trying to write a tribute themselves. They sit down with a blank page and a heart full of love, and they just can't find the words. Simply because it's one of the hardest things anyone is ever asked to write.
I've seen grown children in tears because they couldn't do their mother justice. I've seen widows hand me a crumpled page of notes and say, "I don't know if this is any good". It's usually fine, but it could have been extraordinary.
If you want to spare your family that struggle, consider creating your own living eulogy — or at least the key points of it — and keeping it with your funeral wishes. Not because you're vain, but because you know your story better than anyone. You know the moments that mattered. You know the person you actually were, not just the version your family saw on Sundays.
Alternatively, and this is what I offer, you can commission a professional living eulogy in advance. I sit down with you — properly, over several conversations — and help you shape the story of your life into something your family can read aloud on the day. You get final approval. They get a tribute that sounds like you.
It's a service very few people know exists, and it brings enormous peace to the people who use it. If that's something you'd like to explore, click here and do get in touch. There's no rush, and that's rather the point.
The Gift Of Hearing It Now
There's one more thing worth considering, and it's another part of my work I treasure most. A eulogy doesn't have to wait until you're gone. More and more people are choosing to commission a living eulogy, basically a tribute written and delivered while they're still here to hear it.
Perhaps at a milestone birthday, a retirement, an anniversary, or simply because the time felt right. I've written these for people in their 70s and 80s who wanted to sit in a room with the people they love and hear, out loud, what they've meant to them. The effect is extraordinary. There is no guessing, no regret, no I wish I'd told them. Just the rare and beautiful experience of being honoured in your own lifetime.
If that appeals to you — or if you'd like to give that gift to someone you love — it's worth looking into. It's the same craft as a funeral eulogy, turned toward life instead of loss, and I can't recommend it highly enough.
The PostScript: Start Today, In Small Ways
I completely understand that talking about your own death with those who love you the most is going to be very hard. Remember, you don't need to have the whole conversation today. You just need to begin it.
Mention one song. Say one thing you'd like. Ask one question. Write one sentence down. Each small step makes the next one easier, and each one brings your family a little more certainty when the day eventually comes.
As someone who has spent years helping people honour those they've lost, I'll leave you one thing I know for sure: the families who grieve best are the ones who planned best. Not because planning removes the sorrow - obviously nothing does - but because it removes the confusion, the arguments and the guilt of guessing.
You have the chance to give your family that gift. It starts with a conversation. Have it soon. Have it warmly, and if you'd like help finding the words, you know where to find me.
I really appreciate you visiting my site and reading my post. I'd love to know your opinions on this topic. Have you had ''the conversation" with your family? How did it go? How did you approach it? If not, what do you think's holding you back? Let me know in the comments below. I read and reply to all of them.
Finally, if you did enjoy this post, please give it a '❤️' and feel free to share it on your socials. Maybe someone in your own network might need to read it. There are other relevant blogs you might like linked below, and over 100 others on the site. Thanks again, and take care.
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