A sister can be many things at once. She might have looked after you when you were small, told you off, lent you clothes she never got back, and then become the person you rang when anything went wrong. Writing a eulogy for her means choosing a few of those memories and saying them out loud in front of the people who loved her.
This page covers what to think about, some questions to help you remember, and a full example. For the general process, see how to write a eulogy. There is also a companion guide for a eulogy for your brother.
Show the whole of her life
You probably know your sister best from childhood and from family occasions. Her friends, her colleagues and her partner will know other parts of her: what she was like at work and what she was like on a night out. A good eulogy brings those together. Before you write, ring two or three of the people who knew her in different ways and ask them for one story each. You will often hear something that surprises you.
Try to include the things she was proud of. That might be a career, a business she built, a qualification she studied for as an adult, her children, her garden or a charity she raised money for. If she had a skill everyone relied on, such as cutting the family's hair or organising every birthday, say so.
Questions to help you get started
- What did the two of you do together as children?
- Did she look after you, or did you look after her?
- What job did she do, and what was she like at it?
- Who were her closest friends, and how long had she known them?
- How did she meet her partner?
- What was she like as a mum, an auntie or a godmother?
- What did she always say, cook or wear?
- When did you last laugh together, and what about?
Things to think about
Your parents. If your mum or dad is at the funeral, remember that they are saying goodbye to their daughter. Talk to them before you write and let them hear the draft if they want to. A short line addressed to them can help, but check first that they will be comfortable with it in front of everyone.
Her partner and children. Her husband, wife or partner should see the eulogy before the day. They may want to speak themselves, or they may be relieved that you are doing it. If she had children, include something about her as a mum that they will be glad to hear, and keep the language simple if they are young. Our guide to a eulogy for your husband or wife may help her partner if they decide to write something too.
When she died too young. If your sister died in her twenties, thirties or even her sixties, people will be feeling that she should have had many more years. You can say so once, in a sentence or two. You don't need to describe what happened, and it is better to leave the details out. Spend the time on the life she lived.
Humour. Most sisters leave behind a few good stories. If she was funny, or if she was the sort of person who would have laughed at her own habits, a light moment will help everyone. Keep it kind, and follow it with something sincere.
Speaking as a brother or a sister. A sister speaking about her sister may have shared a bedroom and borrowed her clothes for years. A brother may have seen her from a little further off, perhaps as the older one who kept an eye on him. Either is fine. Write from where you stood, and use your own words.
Example eulogy for a sister
This example is read by a younger brother. His sister was sixty-one and ran her own hair salon, and her wife and their mum were in the front row. It is about four minutes long, with a quiet, dry sort of humour that suited the family.
Good afternoon. I'm Stuart, Alison's younger brother. On behalf of Jo, our mum Irene and the rest of the family, thank you for being here. Ali would have counted the chairs, so I can tell you she'd be pleased.
Alison was born in Carlisle in 1965, and she lived here all her life apart from two years in Manchester that she never talked about much, except to say it rained more there than here, which she found hard to believe. Dad worked on the railway at Kingmoor and Mum was a dinner lady at Stanwix School, and I came along when Ali was four. From then on, as far as she was concerned, I was her project.
She taught me to read, mainly so I'd stop asking her what things said. She walked me to school every morning, and if I dawdled she'd leave me at the corner and tell Mum I'd run off. When I was eleven she cut my hair for the first time, in the kitchen, with Mum's dressmaking scissors. It was not a success. But she kept practising, and a few years later she was the one everyone in the street came to.
She trained at the college on Victoria Place and worked in two salons in town before opening her own on Botchergate in 1996. She ran it for twenty-nine years. She knew every customer's name and the names of all their children, and she remembered them from one appointment to the next. A few of her regulars are here today. Ali would want me to say that your roots can wait until next week.
She met Jo at a friend's wedding in 2004. Ali said she knew within about ten minutes. Jo says it took a bit longer, because Ali spent the first ten minutes telling her what she'd do with her fringe. They got married in 2015 at the Civic Centre, and I've never seen my sister so nervous or so happy. Jo, you made her life so much bigger, and she knew it.
To my two, Lauren and Ewan, she was Auntie Ali, who let you stay up late and taught you card games your mother and I didn't approve of. She came to every sports day and every school play, and she never forgot a birthday.
Ali was sixty-one, and she had plans. She and Jo were going to Lake Garda next spring, and she'd already bought the guidebook. I want to thank the staff at the Cumberland Infirmary, who looked after her and all of us with such kindness.
Mum, I know this isn't the order things are meant to happen in. Ali rang you every single day, usually at half past five, and I know you'll miss that most of all.
She always said the same thing when I left the salon. "Go on, you'll do." So, Ali, thank you for looking after me. Go on, love. You'll do.
Why it works: the brother tells it from where he stood, as the little brother she took charge of. The humour is dry and affectionate, and it comes from her own habits. It speaks directly to her wife and their mum, mentions her age once without saying how she died, and uses one of her own phrases for the goodbye.
Ways to end a eulogy for your sister
- "Thank you for being my big sister, and for never letting me forget it."
- "She always told us to ring when we got home safe. We will, Ali. Goodnight."
- "We love you, and we'll look after everyone you looked after."
If you have been asked to speak for a friend, see a eulogy for a friend. There are more eulogy examples, and a guide for a eulogy for your mum if you are also speaking for a parent.
Common questions
How do I start a eulogy for my sister?
Thank people for coming and say who you are, for example "I'm Stuart, Alison's younger brother." You could then start with where she was born, or with a short memory of the two of you that shows what she was like.
My sister and I weren't always close. What can I say?
Be honest with yourself about what you can say and mean. You can talk about the years when you were close, the parts of her life that other people valued, and what her friends and family have told you. If it feels wrong for you to speak, someone else can.
Should I mention her illness or how she died?
You don't need to. Most people in the room will already know, and the eulogy is about her life. If she died younger than anyone expected, one plain sentence acknowledging that is usually enough. Thanking the people who cared for her is always welcome.
Who else should I talk to before I write it?
Her partner, if she had one, and her children if they are old enough. If your parents are alive, talk to them too. Her friends and colleagues are worth asking for stories, because they will know sides of her that you didn't see.