Writing a eulogy for your mom is hard partly because she has been in your life for so long. There are too many memories to choose from, and all of them feel important. Most people find it easier once they stop trying to sum her up in a few sentences and think instead about ordinary days with her: what she made for dinner on a weeknight, what she said when you called, the things she did for other people without anyone asking.
This page covers what to think about, some questions to get you started and a full example. For the general process from first notes to a finished draft, see how to write a eulogy. If you'd like a structure to fill in, the eulogy template may help.
Remember she had a life before you
Most of us know our moms mainly as our moms. A eulogy is a chance to remind everyone of the rest of her life too. She grew up somewhere, had friends as a teenager, worked at jobs you may only have heard about, and was a person in her own right long before she had children. Her sisters, her cousins and her oldest friends can tell you stories you've never heard, and the visitation or the days before the service are often when those stories come out.
It's also worth naming the work she did that nobody saw. Many moms spent years packing lunches, driving to practices, remembering every birthday in the family and looking after their own parents as they got older. Saying some of that out loud is a way of thanking her for it.
Questions to help you get started
- Where did she grow up, and what stories did she tell about it?
- What work did she do, paid or unpaid, and what was she proud of?
- How did she meet your dad or her partner?
- What was she like when you were small, and when you were a teenager?
- What did she always cook for holidays or birthdays?
- What did she always say? Is there a phrase everyone in the family will recognize?
- Who were her friends, and what did they do together?
- What was she like as a grandma?
- What did she teach you, even without meaning to?
You won't use all of the answers. Pick the two or three stories that feel most like her and let the rest go. The ones you leave out can go in the obituary, a card at the reception or a conversation with family afterward.
Things to think about before you write
Your dad or her partner. If your dad or her partner is still living, talk to him or her before you write. There may be things they'd like said, or things they'd rather you left out, and they'll be sitting in the front row. Speak about their marriage in a way they'll be comfortable hearing.
Brothers and sisters. If you're one of several children, share a draft with them before the day. Everyone remembers their mom a little differently, and it's better to find that out at the kitchen table before the day.
Her faith. If her church or faith mattered to her and the service is religious, it's natural to mention it, and the pastor or priest can tell you how the eulogy fits into the order of service. If the service is a celebration of life at a funeral home or a community hall, follow what the family feels suits her.
Her last months. If she was ill for a long time, you may want to thank the nurses, the hospice team or the neighbors who helped. You don't need to describe the illness itself.
Example eulogy for a mom
This example is read by a youngest son at his mom's funeral in Toledo, Ohio. It runs to about four minutes and has a little gentle humor, because the family felt that suited her.
Good morning, everyone. I'm Andy, Carol's youngest son. On behalf of my dad, my brother Mike, my sister Denise and the whole family, thank you for being here to remember Mom with us.
Mom was born in Toledo in 1948 and grew up on the east side, the second of five kids. Her father worked on the line at the Jeep plant for thirty years, and her mother ran the house on his paycheck and a lot of casseroles. Mom used to say that with five kids and one bathroom, she learned to be quick, and she never lost that. She could get three children dressed and into the car before my dad found his keys.
She met Dad at a roller rink in 1966. He says he fell down in front of her on purpose. She always said he fell down because he couldn't skate, and after fifty-six years of marriage he still hasn't won that argument. They got married at St. Stephen's in 1969, and they were happy together for the rest of her life.
For thirty-one years Mom was the school secretary at Glendale Elementary. If you went to that school, she knew your name, your brother's name and what time your mom was supposed to pick you up. She kept a drawer of spare mittens and granola bars for kids who needed them, and she never told anyone who took what. When she retired, the teachers lined the hallway and clapped her out to the parking lot. She cried the whole way home and said it was allergies.
As a mom she was on our side, but she was never fooled. She knew when the car had been driven farther than we said, and she knew Denise had a boyfriend three months before Dad did. She also came to every game and every school play, including one where I was a tree and had no lines.
She loved summers at my aunt's cottage near Marblehead, where she read paperbacks on the porch and refused to go in Lake Erie past her knees. She loved Mud Hens games, mostly for the hot dogs. She played euchre with the same four women every other Thursday for over twenty years, and I'm told she was ruthless.
Most of all, she loved her grandchildren. Emma, Tyler, Grace and little Owen, she kept every drawing you ever gave her in a folder in the hall closet, labeled by year. She knew all your teachers and all your friends. I hope you remember her kitchen table, and the way she always had something baking when you came over.
I want to thank the nurses at the hospice who looked after Mom in her last weeks, and Mrs. Palmer from next door, who brought soup every Tuesday whether we needed it or not. Mom would want me to say thank you properly, so thank you.
The thing I'll miss most is her phone calls. She called every Sunday afternoon, and the first question was always whether I'd eaten. I'm fifty-two years old, Mom, and I did eat. Thank you for asking every week. We love you, and we'll take good care of Dad.
Why it works: it covers her life briefly and in order, then spends most of its time on small, specific memories that people in the room will recognize. It includes her husband kindly, speaks directly to the grandchildren, thanks the people who helped, and ends with an everyday habit that turns into a goodbye.
Ways to end a eulogy for your mom
- "Thank you for everything, Mom. We love you, and we'll look after each other the way you taught us to."
- "She always told us to call when we got home safe. So Mom, we're home. Goodnight."
- "I'll finish with what she said to all of us every time we left her house: drive carefully, and call me. We will, Mom."
You can read more full tributes on the eulogy examples page, or see the companion guides for a eulogy for your dad and a eulogy for your grandma. If you've been asked to say a few words instead of giving the main eulogy, the page on funeral speeches covers shorter tributes.
Common questions
How do I start a eulogy for my mom?
Thank everyone for coming and say who you are, for example "I'm Andy, Carol's youngest son." Then either begin with where she was born and grew up, or open with one small memory of her, such as the way she answered the phone, and come back to her life story after it.
How long should a eulogy for my mom be?
Most eulogies run between three and five minutes, which is roughly 400 to 650 words spoken at a calm pace. Ask the funeral home or the pastor how much time you have, especially if other people are speaking too, and time yourself reading it out loud.
Can my brothers and sisters and I give the eulogy together?
Yes, and many families do. Decide beforehand who will cover which part of her life, or take turns telling one story each. Have one person open and close so it feels like one tribute, and keep the total within the time you've been given.
What if my relationship with my mom was complicated?
You don't have to pretend it was easy, and you don't have to explain it either. Talk about the parts of her life you can speak about honestly, such as her work, her friendships or what she meant to other people. It's also fine to ask someone else to give the eulogy.
What if I can't get through it without crying?
Most people in the room will understand, and many of them will be crying too. Practice out loud several times so the hardest lines feel familiar. Print it in a large font, pause when you need to, and ask someone to stand nearby who can finish it for you if you can't.