What To Say In A Eulogy When The Deceased Doesn't Want One

At the time of publication, I’ve been writing eulogies professionally for nearly two years. Most of my clients come to me for many of the same reasons: either they are overcome by grief, crippled by the fear of public speaking, or simply too close to the words to shape them into something coherent, so I help them, and it's an honour to do so. But now and again, I receive a call with a different kind of anxiety lurking beneath the surface.

“The thing is”, the caller will whisper, usually after a long pause, “they didn’t want a funeral. Or a eulogy. They made me promise”.

This is the silent elephant in the chapel. It is one of the most delicate, emotionally fraught tasks a eulogy writer can face. How do you honour a life while seemingly disobeying a dying wish? How do you stand before a congregation, mouth dry, knowing that the person in the coffin would have rather you stayed at home with a nice cup of tea? Ultimately, what do you say in a eulogy when (or if) the deceased doesn't want one? Let's talk about it.

Photo by Andre Hunter on Unsplash

Why the Deceased Might Have Said “No”

Let’s first unpack why someone might explicitly refuse a eulogy. It is rarely as simple as “they didn’t care”. In my experience, there are four common reasons.

The first reason is, let's call it, painful practicality. Some people, especially those who have survived a long, gruelling illness, are just simply exhausted. They have probably spent months or even years being discussed by doctors, visited by worried relatives and dissected by medical charts. The thought of one more gathering where they are the sole topic of conversation feels like a final indignity. They want to slip away quietly, without the spotlight.

The second is a form of deep-seated modesty. I worked with the family of a retired Scottish headmaster late last year. As you can imagine, he had spent nearly fifty years giving speeches, judging others and standing at podiums. In his final letter to his daughter, he wrote: “For God’s sake, don’t let anyone stand up and drone on about me. I’ve had my turn”. Whilst that made me smile, for them and others, a eulogy feels like boastfulness by proxy. They don’t want to be lionised, turned into a saint they never felt themselves to be.

The third is complicated relationships. To be honest, this is the one that breaks my heart. A person might say, “I don’t want a eulogy” because they are terrified that no one will have anything good to say, or even turn up at their funeral to hear it. Or conversely, they know exactly what someone might say, and they don’t want those old arguments re-litigated over their dead body. The refusal can be a kind of pre-emptive shield against hypocrisy.

Finally, the fourth, and probably most common, is fear of upsetting the living. The deceased often says (before they died, obviously), “I don’t want a eulogy because I don’t want to see my children/wife/husband/whoever cry”. They mistakenly believe that silence will spare grief. It rarely does. It simply leaves the grief with nowhere to go.

What To Say In A Eulogy When The Deceased Doesn't Want One and Should You Defy Their Wish?

This is the moral crux of it. As a professional, I never advise a family to blindly ignore a clear dying wish. But I also remind them that dying wishes are not legal contracts. They are emotional communications often made at the most vulnerable time of a person’s life. Sometimes, the living need something the dying could not foresee.

Here is my rule of thumb: do not give a eulogy that the deceased would have actively hated. But do give a eulogy if the reason they refused was to protect you from sadness.

If your father said no because he was shy, he might forgive a quiet, five-minute family tribute. If your partner said no because they hated fuss, they might tolerate a few gentle words spoken in a small room. The goal is not to disobey. The goal is to find another way; a eulogy that honours the spirit of their request, even as it breaks the letter.

How to Approach the Writing

If you have decided, after long, honest conversations with close family, that a eulogy is necessary for the healing of the living, I think you need to approach it with a different set of rules than usual. This is not a standard obituary, but more a quiet act of loving rebellion.

1. Do Not Call it A Eulogy

Words matter. If the deceased recoiled at the word “eulogy,” remove it entirely. Call it “a few memories”, “a short reflection”, or just “some words of thanks”. It doesn't really matter what you call it, just not a eulogy.

I had a client, soon after I started PostScript, whose mother, despite being English, had a visceral hatred of what she called “American-style public weeping”. In the end, we agreed on a path forward and I wrote them a "non-eulogy", which ended up with her family standing up and saying, “I’m not giving a eulogy. I’m just telling you what she put in her sandwiches". That one line disarmed the entire room.

2. Lead With Their Objection

This might sound counterintuitive, but trust me, it's vital. Start by acknowledging the elephant in the room. Says something like “Dad always said he didn’t want anyone making a fuss. So I’ll be brief, and I know he’d be rolling his eyes right now.”

By naming their objection, you show respect. You are not ignoring their wish; you are holding it gently in one hand while holding your grief in the other. The congregation will exhale. They were probably thinking the same thing.

3. Keep It Brutally Short

The standard eulogy is around five to ten minutes. For someone who didn’t want one, I'd usually aim for three minutes. That is roughly 400 words.

It might not sound like a lot, but remember, you are not giving a biography. You are giving a handful of snapshots. One story, one trait, one moment of quiet grace, then sit down before anyone has time to think, “They’re going against the deceased’s wishes”.

4. Remove All Flattery

As I'm sure you're aware, traditional eulogies tend to lean into praise: “He was the kindest, bravest, most generous soul" (or something like it). Do NOT do this.

The person who refused a eulogy often loathes that kind of hyperbolic sweetness. Instead, use plain, honest, even self-deprecating language. “She was difficult. She was brilliant at crossword puzzles and terrible at apologising. And we loved her exactly like that”. Authenticity is often the only thing that pierces the awkwardness.

5. Focus on What They Did, Not What They Were

Instead of saying “She was so loving", say “Every Sunday she peeled the potatoes for the roast dinner, even when her arthritis was bad”.

Instead of “He was funny", say “He once sent a complaint letter to the council about a pothole, written entirely in limericks”. These actionable, specific, small details don't feel like a eulogy. They feel like testimony.

6. Invite the Audience into the Silence

This is probably my favourite technique for these situations. Rather than trying to fill every moment with your voice, build in a pause.

Say something like “She didn’t want speeches. So instead, I’d like us all to sit for thirty seconds and remember the sound of her laugh. If you never heard it, remember the last time you made a cup of tea in her kitchen”. Silence, especially in a funeral, is not failure. It is the most profound form of respect.

7. End with Permission To Let Go

Finally, perhaps the deceased didn’t want a eulogy because they wanted everyone to move on. If that's the case, use your final line to give that permission. “Margaret would be the first to tell you to stop sitting in a stuffy hall listening to me. She’d tell you to go and have a gin and tonic and argue about politics. So, with her blessing, even if she never gave it, let's go and do exactly that”.

When Not to Write Anything

I would be negligent if I didn’t mention the exceptions. There are times when you should absolutely not write a eulogy (or ask anyone else to do it for you, myself included).

If the deceased refused because they were escaping an abusive or deeply controlling family dynamic, do not use their funeral as a stage. That is not healing; that is violation.

If the refusal was the last clear, coherent, repeated instruction given to multiple people, and there is no ambiguity, then you must honour it.

In those cases, find another way. Print a written tribute and leave copies on chairs. Plant a tree. Read a poem they loved without mentioning their name. The need to remember does not require a spoken word at a specific time.

Photo by Debby Hudson on Unsplash

The PostScript

Let me end by telling you this. I once wrote a eulogy for a man who had told his wife on his deathbed, “If anyone speaks at my funeral, I will haunt them”. She was obviously distraught. She wanted to speak, to say "something", but felt paralysed by loyalty.

After a discussion, we compromised. She stood up at the wake afterwards, not the funeral service. She held a glass of his favourite cheap whiskey. She said, “You all know he didn’t want this. So I’m not giving a speech. I’m just going to tell you what happened the day he set fire to the shed by accident”. She told the story. I'm sure everyone laughed. She sat down. She had not defied him; she had simply continued the conversation she would have had with him over dinner.

That, I think, is the answer here.

When the deceased doesn’t want a eulogy, you do not give a eulogy. You give a conversation. You give a story. You give three minutes of honest, awkward, tender humanity.... and then you stop, and you live the rest of your life in the way they would have quietly approved of, without needing a speech to prove it.

There are situations where writing a eulogy still becomes appropriate, even necessary, despite the deceased having said they didn’t want one. It can feel like a contradiction, but in practice, funerals are as much for the living as they are about honouring the person who has died. That tension often sits at the heart of the decision.

One of the most common reasons is the emotional needs of those left behind. A eulogy isn’t just a tribute; it’s a structured way for people to process grief. When someone dies, especially if the loss feels sudden or unresolved, having words spoken about their life can help mourners make sense of what’s happened.

Without that moment of reflection, a service can feel abrupt or incomplete, leaving people with a sense that something important was missing.

Finally, there’s also the question of interpretation.

When someone says they don’t want a eulogy, they may not be rejecting the idea of being remembered; they may be reacting to a specific image or understanding of what a eulogy is. Some people picture overly formal speeches, exaggerated praise, or uncomfortable public emotion. In those cases, families sometimes choose to honour the spirit of that request rather than the literal wording, opting for something simpler, shorter, or more informal that still acknowledges the person’s life.

Don't forget, cultural and social expectations can play a role too.

In many communities, it’s customary for someone to speak about the deceased. Even in increasingly non-religious settings, there’s often an expectation that a life will be marked in words. Without that, attendees may feel uncertain about how to reflect, particularly if they didn’t know the person well.

A eulogy can provide context, helping everyone present understand who the person was and why they mattered.

Sometimes the decision comes down to representation. Not everyone who attends a funeral will have had the same relationship with the deceased. There will be close family, long-term friends and others they may not have seen for years. A eulogy can act as a shared narrative, bringing together different perspectives and experiences into something cohesive. If it’s omitted entirely, parts of that person’s life may go unspoken, particularly for those who didn’t have the chance to know them deeply.

There are also practical considerations. In some services, particularly those held at crematoria or larger venues, a eulogy (or something like it) helps give structure to the ceremony. Without it, the service can feel very short or lacking in substance. Celebrants or officiants may gently encourage families to include some form of tribute, even if it’s not labelled a “eulogy”.

In more complex cases, writing a eulogy can be part of working through unresolved emotions. If the relationship with the deceased was complicated, having the chance to speak honestly, within appropriate boundaries, of course, can be an important step in processing grief. In that sense, the eulogy becomes less about fulfilling tradition and more about giving voice to what might otherwise remain unsaid.

Of course, there’s an ethical balance to consider. Ignoring someone’s wishes entirely can feel uncomfortable or even disrespectful. That’s why many people find a middle ground: reframing the eulogy as a “tribute”, sharing memories less formally, or incorporating stories into other parts of the service, like the wake, rather than delivering a standalone speech.

Ultimately, the decision often reflects a difficult truth: funerals sit at the intersection of the deceased’s wishes and the needs of the living. Writing a eulogy when someone didn’t want one isn’t usually about disregarding them; it’s about trying to care for everyone else while still keeping their personality, preferences and spirit in mind. I hope this helps.

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Thanks so much for reading my post. If it's something you're dealing with, I hope it helped. I also love to know your thoughts on this. How would you feel about someone reading a eulogy at your funeral if you asked them not to? What do you hope they'd say? How would they sum up your life? Let me know in the comments below. I read and reply to all of them.

If you are struggling with this impossible task, know that you are not alone, and know that the very fact you are wrestling with their wishes, rather than ignoring them, means you have already honoured them more than any perfect string of words ever could.

My name is Gary Michaels, I'm a professional eulogy writer based in the north of England, and I help families across the country find words when words feel impossible. If that's you, please get in touch and let's talk about how I can help.

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