The evening prior to my husband’s funeral, I found myself typing “how to write a eulogy” into Google. At just 40 years old, he had left us far too soon, and I had never before delivered or composed such a tribute. My academic background had equipped me with persuasive and informative writing skills, but I had never learned to pen heartfelt words that could offer solace to grieving family and friends, or to my own two young children grappling with the finality of death.
Within twenty minutes, I drafted a brief eulogy outlining his courageous battle with brain cancer, sprinkled with sentimental reflections on what made him who he was. Yet, as I printed the single page of remarks, I felt an overwhelming sense of inadequacy. So many important moments were missing—the story of our first encounter, the butterflies of our initial dates, the laughter that filled our lives, and the profound bravery he displayed through his illness. I had touched on his diagnosis and the harrowing journey we faced, but I knew I hadn’t captured the essence of him. He deserved more than a mere summary; he deserved a tribute that was vibrant and unforgettable.
After the funeral, loved ones complimented my words, but I knew they fell short. I stepped away from the podium, holding my children close, feeling a void that suggested closure would never come. The realization sank in that I might always carry the weight of unexpressed thoughts—words that remained unspoken while life continued to unfold, with its harsh realities of young husbands passing and children left heartbroken.
Weeks later, on a bright March afternoon, I sat with a friend, surrounded by laughter and lightness that felt worlds apart from my own heavy heart. My thoughts drifted back to the same day a year earlier when we were desperately seeking options after learning my husband’s tumor had returned, despite months of treatment. I could vividly recall the doctor’s grave words, shattering our hopes. At that lunch, as I chatted about mundane topics, my mind replayed the challenging events of the past year like an unending film.
If only I had done better with my eulogy, I thought. My friend would have understood the weight of our journey, the moments of despair intertwined with fleeting hope. I would have shared the day we connected with the team at Duke University, learning they had accepted my husband into a remarkable trial that had been hailed as a potential miracle.
That evening, feeling compelled to share our story, I began writing a blog chronicling our experiences over the past year. Each day, I reflected on our memories, contrasting the past with the present. As I poured my heart onto the page, the burden began to lift. It was a cathartic release—transforming my grief into a narrative that no longer overwhelmed me. Though it felt selfish to ask others to share in our sorrow, I embraced the idea that perhaps grief is, by nature, a self-focused journey.
In the process of sharing my husband’s life, I uncovered the true meaning behind words like “brave” and “strong.” I was crafting the eulogy he deserved, one that detailed our love story, his bravery during his illness, and the moments we cherished together. I was creating a vibrant memorial that celebrated his life.
Over the course of 320 days, I poured out more than 160,000 words, reaching an audience of over 16,000 strangers. My writing not only served as a tribute to my husband but also provided a sense of connection for others navigating their struggles.
The morning after my final post, I realized that while the past didn’t vanish, it no longer held me captive. It didn’t grant me closure or a fairytale ending, but it did create space for healing. And perhaps, in grief, that is all one truly needs.
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In summary, writing about my husband’s life and our shared experiences became a transformative process, allowing me to honor his memory while finding a way to cope with my grief. It was a journey that turned sorrow into connection, and ultimately, into hope.
Keyphrase: writing a eulogy for a loved one
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