What If Eulogies Were More Honest? - Balancing Truth With Kindness

I'm sure that, at funerals across the UK and around the world, a familiar pattern often unfolds. Someone steps to the lectern, takes a deep breath, unfolds a carefully prepared sheet of paper, and begins to speak about a life well lived.

The stories are warm. The memories are affectionate. The flaws, if mentioned at all, are usually reframed as charming quirks rather than serious shortcomings.

"He could be a bit stubborn".

"She always said exactly what she thought".

"He wasn't much of a cook".

We heard them all, and we smile or laugh knowingly, nod in agreement, and celebrate the person we have lost, but there is also often a peculiar moment that occurs in the quiet hours after a funeral.

It may happen in the kitchen, over lukewarm tea and stale biscuits, or in the car on the way home from the wake. Someone will say something - usually preceded by a nervous glance and a lowered voice that begins with “Well, he wasn’t always that saintly, was he?” Maybe it's "That wasn't really Dad, though, was it?" or "Mum had many wonderful qualities, but she was also incredibly difficult".

Everyone who heard it exhales.

Statements like this are not a dismissal of the deceased, nor are they a disrespectful tarnish on their memory. It is, more often than not, a moment of relief. A collective acknowledgement that the person we just spent an hour eulogising as a paragon of virtue was, in fact, a human being. Flawed. Complicated. Occasionally infuriating. And that, paradoxically, is what makes us miss them so terribly.

Image by viarami from Pixabay

For a professional eulogy writer like myself, those kinds of thoughts raise an interesting question: what if the eulogies I write for clients were more honest?

What if, instead of presenting an almost saintly version of the deceased, we included the less positive aspects of their character too? Would it dishonour them? Would it taint their memory? Or would it create a more accurate, nuanced and ultimately more meaningful portrait of a human life?

This is something I think about often because the truth is that no life is entirely good or entirely bad. Not mine. Not yours. Not anyone's. We are all complicated, contradictory, imperfect people. The challenge lies in deciding how much of that complexity belongs in a funeral tribute.

The Problem With Sanitised Memories

There can be a downside to portraying someone as entirely virtuous.

When eulogies become excessively polished, they can feel inauthentic. Listeners may struggle to recognise the person being described. Family members who experienced a more complicated relationship with the deceased may feel isolated or even invalidated in their grief.

This is especially true in situations involving estrangement, addiction, mental illness, infidelity, neglect or long-standing family conflict.

Imagine listening to a eulogy describing a father as endlessly loving and devoted when your own experience of him was distant, critical or absent. Such a tribute may bring comfort to some mourners while causing pain to others.

Similarly, portraying someone as flawless can unintentionally create unrealistic standards for the living. It suggests that only our best qualities deserve remembrance.

Yet most people know, instinctively, that life is messier than that. A more rounded portrayal can often feel more truthful and, paradoxically, more compassionate.

Why Eulogies Tend to Focus on the Positive

Traditionally, eulogies have never been intended as objective biographies. Their purpose is not to provide a comprehensive account of someone's life, complete with footnotes, criticisms and balanced analysis. Rather, they exist to honour and remember the deceased and comfort those left behind.

The thing is, funerals serve the living as much as they serve the dead. They provide an opportunity for families and friends to come together in grief, gratitude and remembrance. In those moments, kindness understandably takes precedence over complete factual accuracy.

There is also an old cultural principle that many people still subscribe to: "Don't speak ill of the dead". Incidentally, there's a blog all about that linked here and below this one, if you're interested in reading it later.

While opinions differ on the wisdom of this saying, its influence remains strong. Most people instinctively feel that a funeral is not the appropriate place to air grievances, revisit old arguments or expose painful family wounds. As a result, eulogies often become selective narratives. They highlight generosity, humour, devotion, resilience and love. Difficult qualities are softened or omitted altogether. In many cases, this is entirely appropriate. After all, none of us would want our worst moments to define us... right?

What If Eulogies Were More Honest & The Case for Brutal Honesty

Let us, for a moment, imagine the alternative. What if we disregarded the rule of absolute positivity and not speaking ill of the dead completely? What if we allowed the eulogy to include the less palatable chapters?

Imagine a eulogy that says: “He was a brilliant businessman, but he was also a terrifying perfectionist who rarely praised his staff”, or “She loved her children fiercely, yet she struggled to show affection in a way they could easily feel". What about something like “He had a sharp wit that could light up a room, and a sharper tongue that could deflate it just as quickly"?

Would phrases like this taint the memory? Would colleagues only recount the times they were berated in the office? Would the widow walk away thinking only of the anger? Would the children remember only the coldness?

I have actually tested this theory. I have written draft eulogies that gently (and I must stress, gently) acknowledge a person’s foibles. The feedback I got back has always been surprising. Families do not feel betrayed; they feel seen. They feel that their real relationship with the deceased has been validated.

Grief is not a simple emotion. It is a tangled knot of love, frustration, gratitude and regret. When you deny the frustration and the regret, you deny people the ability to fully process their loss. As I often tell my clients, an honest eulogy does not diminish a person’s legacy; it places that legacy on a firmer foundation.

Think of it this way: We do not love people in spite of their flaws. We love people, including their flaws. Often, we love them because of their flaws: the stubbornness that kept them going, the pride that masked a deep vulnerability, or the bluntness that gave them an incorruptible integrity.

I believe to omit these qualities is to omit the texture of the person. It is like painting a portrait and leaving out the shadows; you are left with a flat, one-dimensional image that bears only a passing resemblance to the subject.

For me, a truly accurate, rounded, and nuanced eulogy acknowledges that no one is completely good or completely bad. We are all, every one of us, a glorious, messy amalgamation of light and shade.

The British Sensibility: Understatement and Irony

Here in the UK, where I'm based, I think we have a unique cultural advantage when it comes to this balancing act: understatement and irony. The British are masters of the backhanded compliment. We can say “He was never one to suffer fools gladly”, and everyone in the room knows it means he was brutally intolerant, but they also smile because they remember his sharp intelligence.

We can say “She had a formidable will”, and we all nod because we remember that she was stubborn as a mule, but we also admire her for it.

This ethos may be the secret to a balanced eulogy. It is not a forensic audit. It is a love letter that tells the truth. It is written with a wry smile, not a snarling critique. It uses gentle humour to soften the hard edges. It uses communal understanding - the shared knowledge of the family and friends in the room - to fill in the gaps.

Nobody Is Entirely Good or Entirely Bad

When I started PostScript Eulogies following the death of my parents, I naively assumed the eulogies I'd write for others would follow a simple pattern: someone has passed away, their family or friends get in touch with details about their life, and I'd create a bespoke eulogy around those details, honouring their life. I was very wrong.

One of the greatest lessons I learned very quickly is that human beings rarely fit neatly into categories, and the circumstances around their lives (and death) are seldom straightforward.

I'm sure it happens all over the world, with families in every country. We all have our 'interesting' familial quirks. The grandmother who devoted herself tirelessly to her family, may also have been fiercely controlling. The businessman admired for his generosity may have worked so hard that he neglected those closest to him. The father, remembered for his humour by friends, may also have struggled to express emotion to his children.

I also learned that these contradictions do not invalidate the good. They simply acknowledge reality. In fact, I believe imperfections often make people more memorable and relatable. Many of the most moving funeral tributes I have written include gentle acknowledgements of human frailty. They recognise that the deceased was imperfect while affirming that they were still deeply loved, because love does not require perfection.

If anything, genuine love usually grows from accepting someone's flaws alongside their strengths.

So Should Eulogies Include the Negative?

The answer, in my view, is: sometimes, but carefully. The fact is, a funeral is not, nor should it be, a courtroom. It is not the place for settling scores, exposing secrets or cataloguing failures. Honesty should never become cruelty.

At the same time, complete avoidance of difficult truths can leave a eulogy feeling hollow. I think the key lies in asking three important questions.

1. Will this detail help people understand the person better?

By all means, include a flaw or struggle if it will provide valuable context and depth.

For example, something like:

"John could be stubborn, and heaven help anyone who tried to tell him he was wrong. But that same determination carried him through some extraordinarily difficult times".

This acknowledges a challenging trait while also showing its positive dimension.

2. Is it relevant to the person's story?

Not every shortcoming deserves inclusion. An isolated mistake or private failing that serves no meaningful purpose may be best left unsaid.

By contrast, if someone spent years battling alcoholism, depression or illness, acknowledging those struggles may be essential to understanding who they were and the challenges they faced.

In my experience, families find comfort in recognising the reality of those battles rather than pretending they never existed.

3. Will sharing this bring healing or additional hurt?

This may be the most important question of all.

A funeral should ideally support the grieving process. If including a particular truth is likely to reopen old wounds, embarrass surviving relatives or create conflict during the service (or the wake afterwards, once alcohol is involved), it may not belong in the eulogy itself.

Many truths can be spoken elsewhere, at another time, in another setting.

The Art of Compassionate Honesty

The most effective eulogies I write often practise what I like to call "compassionate honesty".

It neither canonises nor condemns. Instead, it seeks understanding. For example, rather than saying: "Jane was difficult and argumentative", you might say:

"Jane had strong opinions and rarely kept them to herself. Life with her was never dull, but those who knew her best also knew the fierce loyalty and love that lay beneath her outspoken nature".

Similarly:

"David struggled for many years with addiction. Those years were painful for everyone who loved him, but they were only one chapter in a much larger story. He also possessed tremendous kindness, humour and courage"

I think this kind of approach neither ignores reality nor allows it to overshadow everything else. Rather, it recognises complexity, and complexity is deeply human.

Image by HaseebPhotography from Pixabay

What About Deeply Difficult Relationships?

Some of the hardest eulogies I've written for clients involve complicated family relationships. Children writing for estranged parents often ask me, "Do I have to pretend everything was wonderful?"

My answer is always no, because authenticity matters.

You are not obliged to invent affection or describe a relationship that never existed.

Equally, a funeral speech rarely benefits from becoming an indictment. In these circumstances, a measured and respectful approach is often best. You might acknowledge the complexity directly by saying:

"Our relationship was not always easy, and there were periods when distance existed between us. But today, I choose to remember the moments of connection we did share and the lessons I carry forward".

Statements like this allow space for truth without unnecessary bitterness.

Sometimes, simply recognising that relationships can be complicated is more than enough. Many mourners will quietly identify with that honesty.

The Legacy We Leave

Perhaps the larger question is not whether eulogies should be more honest, but what kind of honesty we value.

Most of us do not want to be remembered as flawless. Equally, few would wish our past mistakes to define us forever.

Instead, we hope to be remembered as whole people. People who tried, failed, succeeded, loved, learned and grew. People who made mistakes and, hopefully, left some good behind.

For me, a thoughtful eulogy should capture precisely that balance. It acknowledges humanity in all its richness.

The PostScript: Finding the Right Words

Striking the balance between truth and kindness is rarely straightforward, particularly when grief is fresh and emotions are raw.

Families I work with often worry about saying too much, too little, or the wrong thing entirely. It's my job as a professional eulogy writer to help them navigate these difficult questions.

Together, we explore not only who the deceased was at their best, but who they were in all their complexity, ensuring the final tribute feels authentic, respectful and deeply personal, because perhaps the most meaningful eulogies are not those that portray saints. They are the ones that remind us that ordinary, imperfect human beings are worthy of love, remembrance and celebration too.

If you are faced with the daunting task of writing a eulogy, my advice would be not to sanitise. Do not lie. But also, do not punish. Look for the thread that connects the flaws to the virtues. Look for the vulnerability beneath the armour. We all have it.

Their eulogy is the final chapter of their story. Make it an honest one. The ones who loved them will thank you for it - not with a polite nod at the reception, but with a quiet exhale of relief when they get home, because finally, they feel like someone truly knew them, and that, after all, is the greatest respect you can pay.

---

Thanks for reading my post. I do appreciate it. I'd be interested in reading your thoughts. When you pass away, would you be happy with your eulogy including some of your less flattering attributes? Have you been to a service where you've heard less than positive details about the deceased? How did it make you feel? Should a eulogy only be the good bits for the sake of those left behind? Let me know in the comments below.

If this blog has resonated with you and you would like guidance in writing your own tribute, I am here to help. No judgment. No pressure. Just a listening ear and a steady hand. Please get in touch, and let's have a conversation about how I can help you.

Finally, if you did enjoy this post, please give it a '❤️' and feel free to share it on your socials. Maybe someone in your network might need it. There are other blogs you might like, linked below, and a wealth of others on the site.