I Write Eulogies, Not Tragedies

“‘I wanted to get your number. When I go, will you do mine?’” This is what Alex Taylor heard numerous times after giving a successful eulogy at his grandmother’s funeral: People wanted him to write theirs. And so began a bizarre side hustle as an eulogy writer, or “trading in tributes,” as Taylor puts it. But, upon meeting the blind brother of a deceased man, he realizes that familial bonds can be “stronger and deeper than any arrangement of adjectives.” While Taylor can be flippant in tone, he still tells a fascinating tale.

A eulogy is essentially just a polite rewrite of someone’s life, with their missteps, prejudices and prior convictions rebranded as pops of colour in their once-effervescent personalities. Bad habits become calling cards – ‘God, she loved a scotch and soda!’ – and ribald tales from work, home and holiday displace the humdrum rhythms of ordinary life when tallying one’s cosmic lot.

My nan wasn’t the kind of person who left a trail of anecdotes in her wake. She hadn’t really left much body in her wake, either. Physically, she was a tiny lady. Wrapped in her beige shawl and cradled by timber, she looked, I thought on my way up to the altar, like Yoda.